











0 


I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


■T^/isL 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 












COPTRIOHTED 1879.1 


FITCH’S POPULAR LIBRARY, 


of the Rhine 


WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 


GEORGE W. FITCH, PUBLISHER, 
60 Akdbews St., Rochestee, N. Y. 

1879. 


Price lO Gents. 

The New York News Company, Wholesale Agents, 



A Legend of the Rhine 

I 


BY 


WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKEEAY. 








K S, Aw 


ROCHESTER, IST. Y.: 

GEO. AV. FITCir, PUBLISHER, CO ANDREWS ST. 



A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


CHAPTER I. 

SIR LUDWIG OF HOMBOURG. 

It was in the good old days of chivalry, 
when every mountain that bathes its shad- 
ow in the Khine had its castle : not inhab- 
ited, as now, by a few rats and owls, nor 
c;overed with moss and wallflowers, and 
funguses, and creeiiing ivy. No, no ! 
where the ivy now clusters there grew 
strong portcullis and bars of steel ; where 
the wallflower now quivers in the ramiiart 
there were silken banners embroidered 
with wonderful heraldrv : men-at-arms | 
marched where now you only see a bank | 
of moss or a hideous black champignon ; 
and in 2 ilace of rats and owlets, I war- ! 
rant me there were ladies and knights to I 
revel in the great halls, and to feast, and ; 
to dance, and to make love there. They ! 
are iiassed away : — those old knights and | 
ladies : their golden hair first changed to | 
silver, and then the silver dropped off and | 
disappeared forever ; their elegant legs, so | 
slim and active in the dance, became sw^ol- 1 
len and gouty, and then, from being swol- 
len and gouty, dmndled dowui to bare bone- 
shanks ; the roses left their cheeks, and 
then their cheeks disappeared, and left : 
their skulls, and then their skulls powder- 
ed into dust, and all sign of them was j 
gone. And as it was with them, so shall 
it be with us. Ho, seneschal ! fill me a 
cup of liquor ! put sugar in it, good fellow I 
— yea, and a little hot -water ; a very little, j 
for my soul is sad, as I think of those days j 
and knights of old. j 


They, too, have revelled and feasted, and 
where are they ? — gone ? — nay, not alto- 
gether gone ; for doth not the eye catch 
glimjises of them as they walk yonder in 
the grey limbo of romance, shining faintly 
in their coats of steel, wandering by the 
side of long-haired ladies, with long- 
tailed gowTis that little pages carry ? Yes ! 
one sees them : the poet sees them still in 
the far-oft’ Cloudland, and hears the ring 
of their clarions as they hasten to battle 
or tourney — and the dim echoes of their 
lutes chanting of love and fair ladies ! 
Gracious jirivilege of jioesy ! It is as the 
Dervish’s collyrium to the eyes, and causes 
them to see treasures that to the sight of 
donkeys are invisible. Blessed treasures 
of fancy ! I would not change ye — no, 
not for many donkey -loads of gold. * * 

* * * Fill again, jolly seneschal, thou 

brave w'ag ; chalk me up the produce on 
the hostel door — surely the spirits of old 
are mixed up in the wondrous liquor, and 
gentle visions of bygone princes and jirin- 
cesses look blandly down on us from the 
cloudy perfume of the pipe. Do you know 
in w'hat year the fairies left the Rhine ? — 
long before Murray’s “ Guide-Book” was 
wrote — long before squat steamboats, -wdth 
snorting funnels, came paddling down the 
stream. Do you not know that once upon 
a time the appearance of eleven thousand 
British virgins was considered at Cologne 
as a w'onder ? Now there come twenty 
thousand such annually, accompanied by 
their ladies’-maids. But of them w e will 
say no more — let us back to those who 
w^ent before them. 


4 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


Many, many hundred thousand years 
ago, and at the exact period when chivalry 
was in full bloom, there occurred a little 
history upon the banks of the Rhine, which 
has been already written in a book, and 
hence must be positively true. ’Tis a sto- 
ry of knights and ladies — of love and bat- 
tle, and virtue rewarded ; a story of princes 
and noble lords, moreover: the best of com- 
pany. Gentles, an ye will, ye shall hear 
it. Fair dames and damsels, may your 
loves be as hapx)y as those of the heroine 
of this romaunt. 

On the cold and rainy evening of Thurs- 
day, the 26th of October, in the year pre- 
viously indicated, such travellers as might 
have chanced to be abroad in that bitter 
night, might have remarked a fellow- way- 
farer journeying on the road from Ober- 
winter to Godesberg. He was a man not 
tall in stature, but of the most athletic 
proportions, and Time, which had brown- 
ed and furrowed his cheak and sprinkled 
his locks with grey, declared pretty clear- 
ly that He must have been acquainted with 
the warrior for some fifty good years. He 
was armed in mail, and rode a powerful 
and active battle-horse, which (though the 
way the pair had come that day was long 
and weary indeed,) yet supported the war- 
rior, his armor and luggage, with seeming 
ease. As it was in a friend’s country, the 
knight did not think fit to wear his heavy 
destriei', or helmet, which hung at his sad- 
dle-bow over his portmanteau. Both w'ere 
marked with the coronet of a count ; and 
from the crown which surmounted the 
helmet, rose the crest of his knightly race, 
an arm proper lifting a naked sword. 

At his right hand, and convenient to the 
warrior’s grasp, hung his mangonel or 
mace — a terrific weapon Avhich had shat- 
tered the brains of many a turbaned sol- 
dan ; while . over his broad and ample 
chest there fell the triangular shield of the 
period, whereon was emblazed his arms — 
argent, a gules wavy, on a saltire reversed 
of the second ; the latter device was award- 


ed for a daring exploit before Ascalon, by 
the Emjjeror Maximilian, and a reference 
to the German Peerage of that day, or a 
knowledge of high families which every 
gentleman then j)ossessed, w’ould have suf- 
ficed to 'show at once that the rider we 
have described was of the noble house of 
Hombourg. It w'as, in fact, the gallant 
knight Sir Ludwig of Hombourg : his 
rank, as a count, and chamberlain of the 
Emperor of Austria, was marked by the 
cap of maintenance wuth the peacock’s 
feather which he wore (when not armed for 
battle), and his princely blood w^as deno- 
ted by the oiled silk umbrella which he car- 
ried, (a very neat protection against the 
storm), and which, as it is known, in the 
middle ages, none but princes \vere justi- 
fied in using. A bag, fastened with a bra- 
zen padlock, and made of the costly pro- 
duce of the Persian looms (then extremely 
rare in Europe), told that he had travelled 
in Eastern climes. This, too, was evident 
from the inscription writ on card or i)arch- 
ment, and sewed on the bag. It first ran, 
“Count Ludwig de Hombourg, Jerusa- 
lem but the name of the Holy City had 
been dashed out with the pen, and that of 
“Godesberg” substituted. So far indeed 
had the cavalier travelled ! — and it is need- 
less to state that the bag in question con- 
tained such remaining articles of the toilet 
as the high-born noble deemed unneces- 
sary to place in his valise. 

“By Saint Bugo of Katzenellenbogen !” 
said the good knight, shivering, “ ’tis cold- 
er here than at Damascus ! Marry, I am so 
hungry I could eat one of Saladin’s cam- 
els. Shall I be at Godesberg in time for 
dinner ?” And taking out his horologe 
(which hung in a small side-pocket of his 
embroidered surcoat), the crusader con- 
soled himself by finding that it was but 
seven of the night, and that he would reach 
Godesberg ere the warder had sounded the 
second gong. 

His opinion was borne out by the result. 
His good steed, which could trot at a pinch 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


5 


fourteen leagues in the hour, brought him 
to this famous castle, jusf as the warder 
was giving the first welcome signal which 
told that the princely family of Count 
Karl, Margrave of Godesberg, were about 
to j:)re23are for their usual repast at eight 
o’clock. Crowds of images and horsekeep- 
ers were in the court, when, the portcullis 
being raised, and amidst the respectful 
salutes of the sentinels, the most ancient 
friend of the house of Godesberg entered 
into its castle-yard. The under-butler 
stepped forward to take his bridle-rein. 
“Welcome, Sir Count, from the Holy 
Land !” exclaimed the faithful old man. 
“Welcome, Sir Count, from the Holy 
Land !” cried the rest of the servants in the 
hall. A stable was speedily found for the 
Count’s horse, Streithengst, and it was not 
before the gallant soldier had seen that 
true animal well cared for, that he entered 
the castle itself, and was conducted to his 
chamber. Wax-candles burning bright on 
the mantel, flowers in china vases, every 
variety of soap, and a flask of the precious 
essence manufactured at the neighboring 
city of Cologne, were displayed' on his toi- 
let-table ; a cheering fire “ crackled on the 
hearth,” and showed that the good knight’s 
coming had been looked and cared for. 
The serving-maidens, bringing him hot- 
water for his ablutions, smiling asked, 
“Would he have his couch warmed at 
eve ?” One might have been sure from 
their blushes that the tough old soldier 
made an arch reply. The family tonsor 
came to know whether the noble Count 
had need of his skill.- “By Saint Bugo,” 
said the knight, as, seated in an easy set- 
tle by the fire, the tonsor rid his chin of 
its stubby growth, and lightly jDassed the 
tongs and pomatum through the “sable 
silver” of his hair, — “By Saint Bugo, this 
is better than my dungeon at Grand Cairo. 
How is my godson, Otto, Master Barber ; 
and the lady countess, his mother ; and 
the noble Count Karl, my dear brother-in- 
arms ?” 


“ They are well,” said the tonsor with a 
sigh. 

“ By Saint Bugo, I’m glad on’t ; but 
why that sigh ?” 

“ Things are not as they have been with 
my good lord,” answered the hairdresser, 
“ever since Count Gottfried’s arrival.” 

“ He here!” roared Sir Ludwig. “Good 
never came wdiere Gottfried was 1” and the 
while he donned a pair of silken hose, that 
showed admirably the ^proportions of his 
lower limbs, and exchanged his coat of 
mail for the spotless vest and black surcoat 
collared with velvet of Genoa, which w^as 
the fitting costume for “knight in ladye’s 
bower,” — the knight entered into a con- 
versation with the barber, who explained 
to him, with the usual garrulousness of 
his tribe, Avhat was the present position 
of the noble family of Godesberg. 

This will be narrated in the next chapter. 


CHAPTER n. 

THE GODESBEKGEKS. 

’Tis needless to state that the ^ gallant 
warrior Ludwig of Hombourg found in the 
bosom of his friend’s family a cordial wel- 
come. The brother-in-arms of the Mar- 
grave Karl, he was the esteemed friend of 
the Margravine, the exalted and beautiful 
Theodora of Boppum, and (albeit no the- 
ologian, and although the first princes of 
Christendom coveted such an honor), he 
was selected to stand as sjponsor for the 
Margrave’s son Otto, the only child of his 
house. 

It was now seventeen years since the 
Count and Countess had been united ; and 
although heaven had not blessed tlieir 
couch w'ith more than one child, it may 
be said of that one that it was a prize, and 
that surely never lighted on the earth a 
more delightful vision. When Count Lud- 
wig, hastening to the holy wars, had quit- 


6 


A LEGEND OF THE HHINE. 


ted liis beloved goclishild, be bad left bim 
a boy ; be now found him, as the latter 
rushed into>^s arms, grown to be one of 
the finest young men in Germany : tall 
and excessively graceful in proportion, 
with the blush of health mantling ujDon 
his cheek, that was likewise adorned with 
the first down of manhood, and with mag- 
nificent golden ringlets, such as a Rowland 
might envy, curling over his brow and his 
shoulders. His eyes alternately beamed 
with the fire of daring, or melted with 
the moist glance of benevolence. Well 
might a mother be iju’oud of such a 
boy. Well might the brave Ludwig ex- 
claim, as he clasped the youth to his 
breast, ‘ ‘ By Saint Bugo of Katzenellenbo- 
gen, Otto, thou art fit to be one of Coeur 
de Lion’s grenadiers !” and it was the fact: 
the “ Childe” of Godesberg measured six 
feet three. 

He W’as habited for the evening meal in 
the costly, though simple attire of the no- 
bleman of the j)eriod — and his costume a 
good deal resembled that of the old knight 
whose toilet we have just described ; with 
the difference of color, however. The 
pourpoint worn by young Otto of Godes- 
berg was of blue, handsomely decorated 
with buttons of carved and embossed gold; 
his haut-de-chausses, or leggings, were of 
the stuff of Nanquin, then brought by the 
Lombard argosies at an immense price 
from China. The neighboring country of 
Holland had supplied his wrists and bos- 
om with the most costly laces ; and thus 
attired, with an oiDera-hat j^laced on one 
side of his head, ornamented with a single 
flower (that brilliant one, the tulii^), the 
boy rushed into his godfather’s dressing- 
room, and warned him that the banquet 
was ready. 

It was indeed : a frown had gathered on 
the dark brows of the Lady Theodora, and 
her bosom heaved with an emotion akin to 
indignation ; for she feared lest the soups 
in the refectory and the splendid fish now 
smoking there were getting cold ; she fear- 


ed not for herself, but for her lord’s sake. 
“Godesberg,” — whisi)ered she to Count 
Ludwig, as trembling on his arm they de- 
scended from the drawing-room, “Godes- 
berg is sadly changed of late.” 

“By Saint Bugo!” said the burly knight, 
starting, “these are the very w^ords the 
barber sj^ake. ” 

The lady heaved a sigh, and j)laced her- 
self before the sou 2 )-tureen. For some time 
the good Knight Ludwig of Hombourg 
was too much occupied in ladling out the 
forced meat-balls and rich calves’ head of 
which the delicious jjottage was formed 
(in ladling them out, did we say ? ay, mar- 
ry, and in eating them, too), to look at his 
brother-in-arms at the bottom of the table, 
where he sat with his son on his left hand, 
and the Baron Gottfried on his right. 

The Margrave was indeed changed. ‘ ‘By 
Saint Bugo,” whisj^ered Ludwig to the 
Countess, “your husband is as surly as a 
bear that hath been wounded o’ the head.” 
Tears falling into her soup-i^late were her 
only reply. The soup, the turbot, the 
haunch of mutton. Count Ludwig remark- 
ed that the Margrave sent all away un- 
tasted. 

“ The boteler will serve ye with wine, 
Hombourg,” said the Margrave gloomily 
from the end of the table : not even an in- 
vitation to drink ! how different was this 
from the old time 1 

But when in compliance with this order 
the boteler jDroceeded to hand round the 
mantling vintage of the Cape to the as- 
sembled party, and to fill young Otto’s 
goblet (which the latter held up with the 
eagerness of youth), the Margrave’s rage 
knew no bounds. He rushed at his son ; 
he dashed the wine-cup over his spotless 
vest ; and giving him three or four heavy 
blows which would have knocked down a 
bonassus, but only caused the young 
Childe to blush ; “ Fbw take wine !” roared 
out the Margrave ; you dare to help your- 
self ! "Who the d-v-1 gave you leave to helj) 
yourself ?” and the terrible blows were re- 


A LEGEND OF THE BHINE. 


7 


iterated over the delicate ears of the boy. 

“Ludwig ! Ludwig !” shrieked the Mar- 
gravine. 

“Hold your i^rate, madam,” roared the 
Prince. “ By Saint Buffo, mayn’t a father j 
beat his own child ?” 

“His own child!” repeated the Mar- 
grave with a burst, almost a shriek of in- 
describable agony. “Ah, wdiat did I say?” 

Sir Ludwig looked about him in amaze; 
Sir Gottfried (at the Margrave’s right hand) 
smiled gliastlily ; the young Otto w’as too^ 
much agitated by the recent conflict to >vear 
any exiiression but that of extreme discom- 
fiture; but the j)oor Margravine turned her 
head aside and blushed, red almost as the 
lobster which flanked the turbot before her. 

In those rude old times, ’tis known such 
table quarrels were by no means unusual 
amongst gallant knights ; and Ludwig, who I 
had oft seen the Margrave cast a leg of | 
mutton at an offending servitor, or emjity 
a sauce-boat in the direction of the Mar- 
gravine, thought this was but one of the 
usual outbreaks of his worthy though iras- 
cible friend, and very wisely determined to 
change the converse. | 

“How is my friend,” said he, “ the good 
knight. Sir Hildebrandt ?” 

“By Saint Buffo, this is too much!” 
screamed the Margrave, and actually rush- 
ed from the room. 

“ By Saint Bugo,” said his friend, “ gal- 
lant knights, gentle sirs, wdiat ails my good 
Lord Margrave ?” 

“Perhaps his nose bleeds,” said Gott- 
fried, with a sneer. 

“Ah, my kind friend,” said the Margra- 
vine with uncontrollable emotion, “I fear 
some of you have passed from the frying- 
jian into the fire. ” And making the signal 
of dejiarture to the ladies, they rose and 
retired to coffee in the drawing-room. 

The Margrave presently came back again, 
somewhat more collected than he had been. | 
“Otto,” he said sternly, “ go join the la- 
dies : it becomes not a young boy to remain 
in the company of gallant knights after 


dinner.” The noble Childe with manifest 
unwillingness quitted the room, and the 
Margrave, taking his lady’s jilace at the 
head of the table, whispered to Sir Lud- 
wig, “Hildebrandt will be here to-night 
to an evening-party, given in honor of your 
return from Palestine. My good friend — 
my true friend — my old companion in 
arms, Sir Gottfried ! you had best see 
that the fiddlers be not drunk, and that 
the crumpets be gotten ready.” Sir Gott- 
fried, obsequiously taking his patron’s 
hint, bow'ed and left the room. 

“You shall know all soon, dear Lud- 
wig,” said the Margrave, with a heartrend- 
ing look. “You marked Gottfried, who 
left the room apon ?” 

“I did.” 

“You look incredulous concerning his 
worth : but I tell thee, Ludwig, that yon- 
der Gottfried is a good fellow, and my fast 
friend. Why should he not be ? He is 
my near relation, heir to my property : 
should I” (here the Margrave’s counte- 
nance assumed its former expression of ex- 
cruciating agony), should I have no son. ” 

“But I never saw the boy in better 
health,” replied Sir Ludwig. 

“Nevertheless, — ha! ha! — it may chance 
that I shall soon have no son!” 

The Margrave had crushed many a cup 
of wine during dinner, and Sir Ludwig 
thought naturally that his gallant friend 
had drunken rather deeply. He proceed- 
ed in this respect to imitate him ; for the 
stern soldier of those days neither shrunk 
before the Paynim nor the punch-bowl ; 
and many a rousing night had our crusad- 
er enjoyed in Syria with lion-hearted Rich- 
ard ; with his coadjutor, Godfrey of Bouil- 
lon ; nay, with the dauntless Saladin him - 
self. 

“You knew Gottfried in Palestine?” 
asked the Margrave. 

“I did.” 

“ Why did ye not greet him then, as an- 
cient comrades should, with the warm 
grasp of friendship ? It is not because 


8 


A LEGEND OF THE KHINE. 


Sir Gottfried is j^oor ? You know well that 
he is of race as noble as thine own, my ear- 
ly friend !” 

“I care not for his race nor for his j^ov- 
erty, ” replied the blunt crusader. ‘ ‘ What 
says the Minnesinger ? ‘ Marry, that the 

rank is but the stamp of the guinea ; the 
man is the gold. ’ And I tell thee, Karl of 
Godesberg, that yonder Gottfried is base 
metal.” 

“By Saint Buffo, thou beliest him, dear 
Ludwig.” 

‘ ‘ By Saint Bugo, dear Karl, I say sooth. 
The fellow was known i’ the camp of the 
crusaders — disreputably known. Ere he 
joined us in Palestine, he had sojourned 
in Constantino 2 Jle, and learned the arts of 
the Greek. He is a cogger of dice, I tell 
thee — a chanter of horseflesh. He won five 
thousand marks from bluff Bichard of Eng- 
land the night before the storming of Asca- 
lon, and I caught him with false trumps in 
his i)ocket. He warranted a bay mare to 
Conrad of Mont Serrat, and the rogue had 
fired her.” 

“ Ha! mean ye that Sir Gottfied is a leg?” 
cried Sir Karl, knitting his brows. “ Now, 
by my blessed patron. Saint Buffo of Bonn, 
had any other but Ludwig of Hombourg 
so saicl, I would have cloven him from skull 
to chine. ” 

“By Saint Bugo of Katzenellenbogen, 

I will 231’ove my words on Sir Gottfried’s 
body — not on thine, old brother-in-arms. 
And to do the knave justice, he is a good 
lance. Holy Bugo ! but he did good serv- 
ice at Acre ! But his character was such 
that, S23ite of his bravery, he was dismissed 
the army ; nor even alloAved to sell his cap- 
tain’s commission.” 

“I have heard of it,” said the Margrave; 
“Gottfried hath told me of it. ’Twas 
about some silly quarrel over the wine-cu23 
— a mere silly ja 2 ie, believe me. Hugo de 
Brodenel would have no black bottle on 
the board. Gottfried was wroth, and to 
say sooth, flung the black bottle at the 
county’s head. Hence his dismission and 


abru25t return. But you know not,” con- 
tinued the Margrave, with a heavy sigh, 
“of what use that worthy Gottfried has 
been to me. He has uncloaked a traitor 
to me.” 

“Not yet” answered Ludwig satirically. 

“By Saint Buffo ! a dee 2 )-dyed dastard ! 
a dangerous, damnable trhitor I — a nest of 
traitors. Hildebrandt is a traitor — Otto is 
a traitor — and Theodora (O heaven !) she — 
she is another. ” The old Prince burst into 
tears at the word, and was almost clioked 
with emotion. 

“YTiat means this passion, dear friend?” 
cried Sir Ludwig, seriously alarmed. 

“ Mark, Ludwig I mark Hildebrandt and 
Theodora together : mark Hildebrandt and 
Otto together. Like, like I tell thee as 
two 23eas. O holy saints, that I should l)e 
born to suffer this ! — to have all my affec- 
tions wrenched out of my bosom, and to 
be left alone in my old age 1 But, hark ! 
the guests are arriving. An ye Avill not 
em 2 )ty another flash of claret, let us join 
the ladyes i’ the withdrawing chamber. 
When there, mark Hildebrandt and Otto!” 


CHAPTER III. 

THE FESTIVAL. 

The festival was indeed begun. Com- 
ing on horseback, or in their caroches, 
knights and ladies of the highest rank 
were assembled in the grand saloon of 
Godesberg, which was S 2 flendidly illu- 
minated to receive them. Servitors, in 
rich liveries, (they were attired in doub- 
lets of the sky-blue broadcloth of Y 2 ires, 
and hose of the richest yellow sammit — 
colors of the house of Godesberg,) bore 
about various refreshments on trays of 
silver — cakes, baked in the oven, and 
swimming in melted butter ; manchets of 
bread, smeared with the same delicious 
condiment, and carved so thin that you 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


9 


might have expected them to take ■wing 
and flj to the ceiling ; coffee, introduced 
by Peter the Hermit, after his excursion 
into Arabia, and tea such as only Bohea- 
mia could produce, circulated amidst the 
festive throng, and ^vere eagerly devoured 
by the guests. The Margrave’s gloom was 
unheeded by them — how little indeed is 
the smiling crowd aware of the pangs that 
are lurking in the breasts of those who bid 
them to the feast ! The Margravine was 
I'/ale ; but woman knows how to deceive ; 
she was more than ordinarily courteous to 
her friends, and laughed, though the 
laugh Avas hollow, and talked, though the 
talk Avas loathsome to her. 

“The two are together,” said the Mar- 
grave, clutching his friend’s shoulder. 

Now look!'' ' 

Sir Ludwig turned towards a quadrille, 
and there, sure enough, were Sir Silde- 
brandt and young Otto standing side by 
side in the dance. Two eggs Avere not 
more alike ! The reason of the Margrave’s 
horrid susiDicion at once flashed across his 
friend’s mind. 

“ ’Tis clear as the staff of a pike,” said 
the poor MargraA’e, mournfully. “Come, 
brother, a ay ay from the scene ; let us go 
play a game of cribbage !” and retiring to 
the MargraA’ine’s boudoir, the tAvo warriors 
sat down to the game. 

But though ’tis an interesting one, and 
though the Margrave Avon, yet he could 
not keep his attention on the cards ; so agi- 
tated Avas his mind by the dreadful secret 
Avhich weighed upon it. In the midst of 
their jjlay, the obsequious Gottfried came 
to Avhisper a word in his j)atron’s ear, 
Avhich threAv the latter into such a fury, 
that apoplexy was ajAprehended by the 
two lookers-on. But the Margrave mas- 
tered his emotion. whut time, did 

you say ?” said he to Gottfried. 

“ At daybreak, at the outer gate.” 

“ I will be there.” 

“ And so will I too," thought Count Lud- 
Avig, the good Knight of Hombourg. 


CHAPTER lY. 

THE FLIGHT. 

Hoav often does man, proud man, make 
calculations for the future, and think he 
can bend stern fate to his Avill ! Alas, we 
are but creatures in its hands ! How many 
a slip between the lip and the lifted Avine- 
cup ! Hoav often, though seemingly Avith 
a choice of couches to repose ujion, do we 
find ourselves dashed to earth ; and then 
Ave are fain to say the grapes are sour, be- 
cause Ave cannot attain them ; or Avorse, to 
yielthto anger in consequence of our oavii 
fault. Sir LudAvig, the Hombourger, Avas 
not at the outer gate at daybreak. 

He slept until ten of the clock. The 
previous night’s potations had been heavy, 
the day’s journey had been long and 
rough. The knight slejit as a soldier 
would, to Avhom a feather bed is a rarity, 
and Avho wakes not till he hears the blast 
of the reveille. 

He looked up as he woke. At his bed- 
side sat the Margrave. He had been there 
for hours watching his slumbering com- 
rade. Watching ? — no, not watching, but 
awake by his side, brooding OA-er thoughts 
unutterably bitter— over feelings inexpress- 
ibly wretched. 

“What’s o’clock.^” was the first natural 
exclamation of the Hombourger. 

“I belieA^e it is five o’clock,” said his 
friend. It Avas ten. It might have been 
1 tAvelve, two, half-iiast four, twenty minutes 
to six, the MargraA'e Avould still have said, 
“/ believe it is jive o'clock" The Avretched 
take no account of time : it flies Avith un- 
equal i)inions, indeed, for them. 

“Is breakfast over ?” inquired the cru- 
sader. 

“Ask the butler,” said the Margrave, 
nodding his head wildly, rolling his eyes 
wildly, smiling AA'ildly. 

“Gracious Bugo !” said the Knight of 
Hombourg, “ Avhat has ailed thee, my 
friend ? It is ten o’clock by my horologe. 


10 


A LEGEND OF THE BHINE. 


Your regular hour is nine. You are not — 
no, by heavens ! you are not shaved ! You 
wear the tights and silken hose of last 
evening’s banquet. Your collar is all 
]’umi3led — -’tis that of yesterday. You have 
not been to bed ! What has chanced, broth- 
er of mine : what has chanced ?” 

“A common chance, Louis of Hom- 
bourg,” said the Margrave: “one that 
chances every day. A false woman, a 
false friend, a broken heart ? This has 
clianced. I have not been to bed.” 

“ What mean ye ?” cried Count Ludwig, 
deeply affected. “A false friend ? /am 
not a false friend. A false woman? Surely 
the lovely Theodora, your wife ” 

“ I have no wife, Louis, now ; I have no 
wife, and no son.” 

In accents broken by grief, the Mar- 
grave explained what had occurred. Gott- 
fred’s information was but too correct. 
There was a cause for the likeness between 
Otto and Sir Hildebrandt : a fatal cause ! 
'Hildebrandt and Theodora had met at 
dawn at the outer gate. The Margrave 
had seen them. They walked long togeth- 
er ; they embraced. Ah ! how the hus- 
band’s, the father’s feelings were harrowed 
at that embrace ! They parted ; and then 
the Margrave, coming forward, coldly sig- 
nified to his lady that she was to retire to 
a convent for life, and gave orders that the 
boy should be sent too, to take the vows 
at a monastery. 

Both sentences had been executed. Ot- 
to, in a boat, and guarded by a company 
of his fathe'^’s men-at-arms, was on the 
river going towards Cologne, to the mon- 
astery of Saint Buffo there. The Lady 
Theodora, under the guard of Sir Gott- 
fried and an attendant, were on the way to 
the convent of Nonnenwerth, which many 
of our readers have seen — the beautiful 
Green Island Convent, laved by the bright 
waters of the Bhine ! 

“What road did Gottfried take?” asked the 
Knight of Hombourg, grinding his teeth. 


“You cannot overtake him,” said the 
Margrave. “ My good Gottfried, he is my 
only comfort now : he is my kinsman, and 
shall be my heir. He will be back anon.” 

‘ ‘ Will he so ?” thought Sir Ludwig. ‘ ‘ I 
will ask him a few questions ere he return. ” 
And springing from his couch, he began 
forthwith to put on his usual morning 
dress of complete armor ; and, after a has- 
ty ablution, donned, not his cajD of main- 
tenance, but his helmet of battle. He rang 
the bell violently. 

“A cup of coffee, straight,” said he, to 
the servitor who answered the summons ; 
“bid the cook pack me a sausage and 
bread in paper, and the groom saddle 
Streithengst ; Ave have far to ride. ” 

The various orders were obeyed. The 
horse was brought ; the refreshments dis- 
posed of ; the clattering steps of the de- 
parting steed were heard in the court-yard; 
but the Margrave took no notice of his 
friend, and sat, plunged in silent grief, 
quite motionless by the empty bedside. 


CHAPTEB y. 

THE TEAITOE’s DOOM. 

The Hombourger led his horse down the 
winding path which conducts from the hill 
and castle of Godesberg into the beautiful 
green plain below. Who has not seen that 
lovely plain, and who that has seen it has 
not loved it ? A thousand sunny vineyards 
and cornfields stretch around in peaceful 
luxuriance ; the mighty Bhine floats by it 
in silver magnificence, and on the opposite 
bank rise the seven mountains robed in 
majestic purple, the monarchs of the royal 
scene. 

A jileasing poet. Lord Byron, in describ- 
ing this very scene, has mentioned that 
“peasant girls, with dark blue eyes, had 
hands that offer cake and wine,” are per- 
petually crowding round the traveller in 


A LEGEND OP THE EHINE. 


11 


in this delicious district, and proffering to 
him their rustic presents. This was no 
doubt the case in former days, when the 
noble bard wrote his elegant iDoems — in 
the happy ancient days ! when maidens 
were as yet generous, and men kindly ! 
Now the degenerate peasantry of the dis- 
trict are much more inclined to ask than 
to give, and their blue eyes seem to have 
disappeared with their generosity. 

But as it was a long time ago that the 
events of our story occurred, ’tis probable 
that the good Knight Ludwig of Hombourg 
was greeted upon his path by this fasci- 
nating peasantry ; though we know not 
how he accepted their welcome. He con- 
tinued his ride across the flat gi’een coun- 
try until he came to Rolandseck, whence 
he could command the Island of Nonnen- 
werth (that lies in the Rhine oj)posite that 
place), and all who went to it or passed 
from it. 

Over the entrance of a little cavern in 
one of the rocks hanging above the Rhine- 
stream at Rolandseck, and covered with 
odoriferous cactuses and silvery magnolias, 
the traveller of the present day may per- 
ceive a rude broken image of a saint : that 
image represented the venerable Saint 
Buffo of Bonn, the patron of the Mar- 
grave ; and Sir Ludwig, kneeling on the 
greensward, and reciting a censer, an ave, 
and a couple of acolytes before it, felt en- 
couraged to think that the deed he medi- 
tated was .about to be- performed under the 
very eyes of his friend’s sanctified patron. 
His devotion done (and the knight of those 
days was as pious as he was brave). Sir 
Ludwig, the gallant Hombourger, exclaim- 
ed with a loud voice : — 

“Ho ! hermit ! holy hermit, art thou in 
thy cell?” 

‘ ‘ Who calls the poor servant of heaven 
and Saint Buffo ?” exclaimed a voice from 
the cavern ; and presently, from beneath 
the wreaths of geranium and magnolia, ap- 
peared an intensely venerable, ancient, and 
majestic head — ’twas that, w'e need not say, 


of Sa'nt Buffo’s solitary. A silver beard 
hanging to his knees gave his iierson an ap- 
pearance of great respectability ; his body 
was robed in simple brown serge, and girt 
with a knotted cord : his ancient feet were 
only defended from the jn’ickles and stones 
by the rudest sandals, and his bald and 
polished head was bare. 

“ Holy hermit, ” said the knight, in a 
grave voice, “make ready thy ministry, for 
there is some one about to die. ” 

“Where, son ?” 

“Here, father,” 

“ Is he here, now ?” 

“ Perhaps,” said the stout warrior cross- 
ing himself ; “but not so if right prevail.” 
At this moment he caught sight of a ferry- 
boat putting off from NonnenAverth, with a 
knight on board. Ludwig kneAv at once, 
by the sinople reA^ersed and the truncated 
I gules on his surcoat, that it was Sir Gott- 
fried of Godesberg. 

“Be ready, father, ” said the good knight, 
pointing towards the advancing boat ; and 
' Avaving his hand by Avay of respect to the 
I reverend hermit, without a further AAord, 
he vaulted into his saddle, and rode back 
for a fcAV score of i:)aces ; when he Avheeled 
round, and remained steady. His great 
lance and pennon rose in the air. His ar- 
mor glistened in the sun ; the chest and 
head of his battle-horse Avere similarly cov- 
ered wdth steel. As Sir Gottfried, likewise 
armed and mounted (for his horse had been 
left at the ferry hard by), advanced U2) the 
]*oad, he almost started at the figure before 
him — a glistening tower of steel. 

“Are you. Sir Knight, the lord of this 
pass ?” said Sir Gottfried, haughtily, “or 
do you hold it against all comers, in honor 
of your lady-love ?” 

“I am not the lord of this 23ass. I do 
not hold it against all comers. I hold it 
but against one, and he is a liar and a 
traitor.” 

“ As the matter concerns me not, I 2n’ay 
you let me 2)ass,” said Gottfried. 

“The matter f/oe.s concern thee, Gott- 


12 


A LEGEND OE THE EHINE. 


fried of Godesberg. Liar and traitor ! art 
tliou coward, too ?” 

“ Holy Saint Buffo ! ’tis a fight !” ex- 
claimed the old hermit (who, too, had been 
a gallant warrior in his day) ; and libe the 
old war-horse that hears the trumpet’s 
sound, and spite of his clerical profession, 
he prepared to look on at the combat with 
no ordinary eagerness, and sat down on the 
overhanging ledge of the rock, lighting his 
pipe, and affecting unconcern, but in real- 
ity most deeply interested in the event 
which was about to ensue. 

“As soon as the word “coward” had 
been pronounced by Sir Ludwig, his op- 
ponent, uttering a curse far too horrible 
to be inscribed here, had wheeled back 
his powerful piebald, and brought his 
lance to the rest. 

“Ha! Beauseant I” cried he. “Allah 
humdillah !” ’Twas the battle-cry in Pal- 
estine of the irresistible Knights Hospital- 
lers. “Look to thyself. Sir Knight, and 
for mercy from heaven : I will give thee 
none.” 

“A Bugo for Katzenellenbogen I” ex- 
claimed Sir Ludwig, piously ; that, too, was 
the well-known war-cry of his princely race 

“I will give the signal,” said the old 
hermit, waving his j)ipe. “Knights, are 
you ready? One, two, three. Zos.'” (letgo.) 

At the signal, the two steeds tore up the 
ground like whirlwinds ; the two knights, 
two flashing j)erpendicular masses of steel, 
rapidly converged ; the two lances met uj)- 
on the two shields of either, and shivered, 
splintered, shattered into ten hundred 
thousand pieces, which v/hirled through 
the air here and there, among the rocks, 
or in the trees, or in the river. The two 
horses fell back trembling on their haunch- 
es where they remained for half a minute 
or so. 

“ Holy Buffo ! a brave stroke !” said the 
old hermit. “Manw, but a sx^linter well 
nigh took off my nose I” The honest her- 
mit waved his pipe in delight, not perceiv- 
ing that one of the splinters had carried 


off the head of it, and rendered his favor- 
ite amusement impossible. “Ha! they 
are at it again ! Oh my ! how they go to 
with their great swords ! Well stricken, 
grey ! Well parried, piebald ! Ha, that 
was a sheer ! Go it, piebald ! go it. grey ! 

— go it, grey ! go it, pie Peccavi ! i^ec- 

cavi !” said the old man, here suddenly 
closing his eyes, and falling down on his>. 
knees. “ I forgot I was a man of peace.” 
And the next moment, muttering a hasty 
matin, he signing down the ledge of rock, 
and Avas by the side of the combatants. 

The battle was over. Good knight as 
Sir Gottfried Avas, his strength and skill 
had not been able to overcome Sir LudAvig 
the Hombourger, with eight on his side. 
He Avas bleeding at every jDoint of his ar- 
mor : he had been run through the body 
several times, and a cut in tierce, delivered 
Avitli tremendous dexterity, had cloven the 
crown of his helmet of Damascus steel, 
and passing through the cerrebellum and 
sensorium, had split his nose almost in 
tAvain. 

His mouth foaming — his face almost 
green— his eyes full of blood — his brains 
spattered over his forehead, and several 
of his teeth knocked out — the discomfited 
Avarrior presented a ghastly spectacle, as, 
reeling under the effects of the last tremen- 
dous blow which the Knight of Hombourg 
dealt. Sir Gottfried fell heavily from the 
saddle of his piebald charger ; the fright- 
ened animal Avhsiked his tail wildly Avith 
a shriek and a snort, jAlunged out his hind 
legs, trampling for one moment upon the 
feet of the prostrate Gottfried, thereby 
causing him to shriek Avith agony, and then 
galloped aAvay riderless. 

AAvay ! ay, aAvay ! — aAvay amid the green 
vineyards and golden cornfields ; aAvay up 
the steep mountains, Avhere he frightened 
the eagles in their eyries ; aAvay doAvn the 
clattering raAunes, Avhere the flashing cat- 
aracts tumble ; away through the dark 
l^ine-forests, where the hungry AA^olves are 
hoAvling ; aAvay over the dreary Avoids, 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


13 


Avliere the wild wind walks alone ; away 
through the idashing quagmires, where the 
will-o’-the-wisp slunk frightened among 
the reeds ; away through light and dark- 
ness, storm and sunshine ; away by tower 
and town, high-rord and hamlet. Once a 
turnpike-man would have detained him ; 
* but, ha ! ha ! he charged the i)ike and 
cleared it at a bound. Once the Cologne 
Diligence stopped the way : he charged 
the Diligence, he knocked off the cap of 
the conductor on the roof, and yet gallojD - 
ed wildly, madly, furiously, irresistibly on! 
Brave horse 1 gallant steed ! snorting child 
of Araby ! On went the horse, over moun- 
tains, rivers, turnpikes, applewomen ; and 
never stopped until he reached a livery- 
stable in Cologne where his master was 
accustomed to put him up. 


CHAPTER VL 

THE CONFESSION. 

But we have forgotten, meanwhile, that 
prostrate individual. Having examined 
the wounds in his side, legs, head, and 
throat, the old hermit (a skillful leech) 
knelt down by the side of the vanquished 
one and said, “Sir Knight, it is my pain- 
ful duty to state to you that you are in an 
exceedingly dangerous condition, and will 
not iH’obably survive.” 

“ Say you so. Sir Priest ? then ’tis time I 
made my confession. Hearken you. Priest, 
and you. Sir Knight, whoever you be. ” 

Sir Ludwig (who, much affected by the 
scene, had been tying his horse up to a 
tree,) lifted his visor and said, “Gott- 
fried of Godesberg ! I am the friend of thy 
kinsman. Margrave Karl, whose liapiiiness 
thou hast ruined ; I am the friend of his 
chaste and virtuous lady, whose fair fame 
thou hast belied ; I am the godfather of 
young Count Otto, whose heritage thou 
wouldst have appropriated. Therefore I 


meet thee in deadly fight, and overcome 
thee, and have well nigh finished thee. 
Speak on.” 

“I have done all this,” said the dying 
man, ' ‘ and here, in my last hour, re 2 )ent 
me. The Lady Theodora is a sjiotless 
lady ; the youthful Otto the true son of 
his father — Sir Hildebrandt is not his 
father, but his uncled 

“ Gracious Buffo 1” “ Celestial Bugo 1” 

here said the hermit and the Knight of 
Hombourg simultaneously, clasiiing their 
hands. 

“Yes, his uncle ; but with the bar-sin- 
ister in his ’scutcheon. Hence he could 
never be acknowledged by the family ; 
hence, too, the Lady Theodora’s spotless 
j)urity (though the young peojile had been 
brought up together) could never be 
brought to own the relationshii). ” 

“ May I repeat your confession ?” asked 
the hermit. 

“With the greatest jileasure in life: 
carry my confession to the Margrave, and 
pray him give me jiardon. Were there — 
a notary-public present,” slowly gasjied 
the knight, the film of dissolution glazing 
over his eyes, “ I would ask — you — two — 
gentlemen to witness it. I would gladly — 
sign the deposition — that is if I could wr- 
wr-wr-wr-ite 1” A faint shuddering smile 
— a quiver, a gasp, a gurgle — the blood 
gushed from his mouth in black vol- 
umes . . . 

“ He will never sin more,” said the her- 
mit, solemnly. 

“May heaven assoilzie him !” said Sir 
Ludwig. “Hermit, he was a gallant 
knight. He died with harness on his back, 
and with truth on his li23s : Ludwig of 
Hombourg would ask no other death. . .” 

An hour afterwards the 2 Ji'inci 2 ial ser- 
vants at the Castle of Godesberg w'ere rath- 
er suiqirised to see the noble Lord Louis 
trot into the court-yard of the castle, with 
a com 2 ianion on the cru23per of his saddle. 

’ Twas the venerable Hermit of Rolan d- 
seck, who for the sake of greater celerity, 


14 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


liad adoijted this undignified conveyance, 
and whose apjjearance and little diimi3y 
legs miglit well create hilarity among the 
“pampered menials” who are always 
found lounging about the palaces of the 
great. He skipped off the saddle with 
considerable lightness, however ; and Sir 
Ludwig, taking the reverend man by the 
arm, and frowning the jeering servitors 
into awe, bade one of them lead him to the 
presence of his Highness the Margrave. 

“What has chanced ?” said the inquisi- 
tive servitor. “ The riderless horse of Sir 
Gottfried was seen to gallop by the outer 
wall anon. The Margrave’s Grace has 
never quitted your lordship’s chamber, 
and sits as one distraught.” 

“ Hold thy prate, knave, and lead us 
on !” And so saying, the Knight and his 
Reverence moved into the w'ell-known 
appartment,' where, according to the servi- 
tor's description, the wretched Margrave 
sat like a stone. 

Ludwig took one of the kind broken- 
hearted man’s hands, the hermit seized the 
other, and began (but on account of his 
great age, with a prolixity which we shall 
not endeavor to imitate) to narrate the 
events which we have already described. 
Let the dear reader fancy, the while his 
Reverence speaks, the glazed eyes of the 
Margrave gradually lighting up with at- 
tention ; the flush of joy which mantles in 
his countenance — the start — the throb — 
the almost delirious outburst of hysteric 
exultation with which, when the whole 
truth was made known, he clasped the two 
messengers of glad tidings to his breast, 
with an energy that almost choked the 
aged recluse ! “ Ride, ride this instant to 

the Margravine — say I have wronged her, 
that it is all right, that she may come back 
— that I forgive her — that I apologize, if 
you will ” — and a secretary forthwith des- 
patched a note to that effect, which was 
carried off by a fleet messenger. 

“ Now write to the Superior of the mon- 
astery at Cologne, and bid him send me 


back my boy, my darling, my Otto — my 
Otto of roses !” said the fond father,making 
the first play upon w’^ords he had ever at- 
temi^ted in his life. But what will not jja- 
temal love effect ? The secretary (smiling 
at the joke) wrote another letter, and 
another fleet messenger was despatched on 
another horse. 

“ Ahd now,” said Sir Ludwig, playfully, 
“let us to lunch ! Holy hermit, are you 
for a snack ?” 

The hermit could not say nay on an oc- 
casion so festive, and the three gentles 
seated themselves to a plenteous repast ; 
for which the remains of the feast of yes- 
terday offered, it need not be said, amj^le 
means. 

“They will be home by dinner-time,” 
said the exulting father. “Ludwig ! rev- 
erend hermit ! we will carry on till then.” 
And the cup passed gaily round, and the 
laugh and jest circulated, while the three 
happy friends sat confidentially awaiting 
the return of the Margravine and her son. 

But alas ! said we not rightly at the 
commencement of a former chapter, that 
betwixt the lip and the raised wine-cui) 
there is often many a spill ? that our hopes 
are high, and often, too often, vain? About 
three hours after the departure of the first 
messenger, he returned, and with an ex- 
ceedingly long face knelt down and pre- 
sented to the Margrave a billet to the fol - 
lowing effect : — 

“ Convent of 2ion7ienwerth, 

Friday Afternoon. 

“Sib, — I have submitted too long to your 
ill-usage, and am disposed to bear it no more. 

I will no longer be made the butt of your rib- 
ald satire, ana the object of your coarse abuse. 
Last week you threatened me with your cane! 
On Tuesday last you threw a wine-decanter 
at me, which hit the butler, it is true, but the 
intention was evidenti This morning, in the 
presence of all the servants, you called me by 
the most vile, abominable name, which hea- 
ven forbid I should repeat ! You dismissed 
me from your house under a false accusation. 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


15 


You sent me to this odious convent to be im- 
mured for life. Be it so! I will not come back, 
because, forsooth, you relent. Anything is 
better than a residence with a wicked, coarse, 
violent, intoxicated, brutal monster like your- 
self. I remain here for ever, and blush to be 
obliged to sign myself 

“Theodora von Godesberg. 

“P. S. — I hope you do not intend to keep 
all my best gowns, jewels, and wearing-appar- 
el ; and make no doubt you dismissed me from 
your house in order to make way for some vile 
hussy, whose eyes I would like to tear out. - 

“T.v.G.” 

. ^ 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE SENTENCE. 

This singular document, illustrative of 
the 2iassions of women at all times, and 
particularly of the manners of the early 
ages, struck dismay into the heart of the 
Margrave. 

“Are her lady shiji’s insinuations cor- 
rect asked the hermit, in a severe tone. 

• “ To correct a wife with a cane is a venial, 

I may say a justifiable practice ; but to 
fling a bottle at her is ruin both to the li- 
quor and to her.” 

“But she sent a carving-knife at me 
first, ” said the heart-broken husband. ‘ ‘O 
jealousy, cursed jealousy, why, why did I 
ever listen to thy green and yellow tongue?” 

“ They quarreled ; but they loved each 
other sincerely,” whisjiered Sir Ludwig to 
the hermit ; who began to deliver forthwith 
a lecture upon family discord and marital 
authority, which would have sent his two 
hearers to sleep, but for the arrival of the 
second messenger, whom the Margrave 
had despatched to Cologne for his son. 
This herald wore a still longer face than 
that of his comrade wlio ju’eceded him. 

“Where is my darling ?” roared the ag- 


onized parent. “Have ye brought him 
with ye ?” 

“N — no,” said the man, hesitating. 

“ I will flog the knave soundly Avhen he 
comes,” cried the father, vainly endeavor- 
ing, under an appearance of sternness, to 
hide his inward emotion and tenderness. 

“Please your highness,” said the mes- 
senger, making a desperate efi’ort, “Count 
Otto is not at the convent.” 

“ Know' ye, knave, where he is ?” 

The swain solemnly said, ‘ ‘ I do. He is 
tliei'e.'" He pointed as he spake to the 
broad Rhine, that was seen from the case- 
ment, lighted up by the magnificent hues 
of sunset. 

“ There! How mean ye there?" gasped 
the Margrave, WTOught to a pitch of nerv- 
ous fury. 

“Alas! my good lord, when he was in 
the boat which was to conduct him to the 
convent, he — he jumped suddenly from it, 
and is dr — dr — owmed. ” 

“Carry that knave out and hang him !” 
said the Margrave, with a calmness more 
dreadful than any outburst of rage. “Let 
every man of the boat’s crew be blown 
from the mouth of the cannon on the tower 
— excei)t the coxsw'ain, and let him be ” 

What was to be done w ith the coxswain, 
no one knows ; for at that moment, and 
overcome by his emotion, the Margrave 
sank dowm lifeless on the floor. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE CHILDE OF GODESBEKG. 

It must be clear to the dullest intellect 
amongst our readers w’e dare venture to (if 
liresume that a dull intellect should be 
found) that the cause of the Margrave’s 
fainting-fit, described in the last chajiter, 
was a groundless a2>in’eliension, on the i)art 
of that too solicitous and credulous noble- 


16 


A LEGEND OF THE KHINE. 


man regarding the fate of his beloved 
child. No, young Otto was not drowned. 
Was ever hero of romantic story done to 
death so early in the tale ? Young Otto 
was oiot drowned. Had such been the 
case, the Lord Margrave would infallibly 
have died at the close of the last chajjter ; 
and a few gloomy sentences at its close 
would have denoted how the lovely Lady 
Theodora .became insane in the convent, 
and how Sir Ludwig determined, upon 
the demise of the old hermit (consequent 
upon the shock of hearing the news), to 
retire to the vacant hermitage and assume 
the robe, the beard, the mortifications of 
the late venerable and solitary ecclesiastic. 
Otto was not drowned, and all those i)er- 
sonages of our history are consequently 
alive and well. 

The boat containing the amazed young 
Count — for he knew not the cause of his 
father’s anger, and hence rebelled against 
the unjust sentence which the Margrave 
had uttered — had not rowed many miles, 
when the gallant boy rallied from his tem- 
porary surprise and desiDondency, and de- 
termined not to be a slave in any convent 
of any order : determined to make a des- 
iderate effort for escajde. At a moment 
when the men were pulling hard against 
the tide, and Kuno, the coxswain, was 
looking carefully to steer the barge be- 
tween some dangerous rocks and quick- 
sands, which are frequently met with in 
the majestic though dangerous river, Otto 
gave a sudden spring from the boat, and 
with one single flounce was in the boiling, 
frothing, swirling eddy of the stream. 

Fancy the agony of the crew at the 
disaidpearance of their young lord ! All 
loved him ; all would have given their 
lives for him ; but as they did not know 
how to swim, of course they declined to 
make any useless plunges in search of 
him, and stood on their oars in mute won- 
der and grief. Once, his fair head and 
golden ringlets were seen to arise from 
the water ; ticice, puffing and jjanting, it 


appeared for an instant again ; thrice, it 
I rose but for one single moment ; it was 
I the last chance, and it sunk, sunk, sunk. 

1 Knowing the reception they would meet 
with from their liege lord’, the men natur- 
ally did not go home to Godesberg, but 
IDutting in at the first creek on the oi^po- 
site bank, fled into the Duke of Nassau’s 
territory ; where, as they have little to do 
with our tale, we will leave them. 

But they little knew how expert a swim- 
mer was young Otto. He had disap i^eared, 
it is true : but why ? because he had dived. 
He calculated that his conductors would 
consider him drowned,' and the desire of 
lil5brty lending him Avings, (or we had 
rather say jins, in this instance,) the gal- 
lant boy swam on beneath- the Avater, 
never lifting his head for a single moment 
betAveen Godesberg and Cologne — the dis- 
tance being tAventy-fiA^e or thirty miles. 

Escaping from observation, he landed 
on the Deutz side of the river, rej^aired to 
a comfortable and quiet hostel there, say- 
ing he had had an accident from a boat, 
and thus accounting for the moisture of 
his habiliments, and Avhile these Avere dry- 
ing before a fire in his chamber, AA*ent 
snugly to bed, Avhere he mused, not Avith- 
out amaze, on the strange events of the- 
day. “This morning,” thought he, “a 
noble, and heir to a princely estate — this 
evening an outcast, Avith but a fcAv bank- 
notes which my mamma luckily gave me 
on my birthday. What a strange entry 
into life is this for a young man of my 
family ! Well, I have courage and resolu- 
tion : my first attempt in life has been a 
gallant and successful one ; other dangers 
Avill be conquered by similar bravery.” 
And recommending himself, his unhappy 
mother, and his mistaken father to the 
care of their jmtron saint. Saint Buffo, the 
gallant-hearted boy fell presently into such 
a sleep, as only the young, the healthy, 
the innocent, and the extremely fatigued 
can enjoy. 

The fatigues of the day (and very feAV 


A LEGEND OF THE BHINE. 


17 


men but •would be fatigued after swim- 
ming well-nigli thirty miles under water) 
caused young Otto to sleep so profoundly, 
that l.i did not remark how, after Friday’s 
sunset, as a natural consequence, Satur- 
day’s Phoebus illumined the world, ay, and 
sunk at his appointed hour. The serving- 
maidens of the hostel, peeping in, marked 
him sleeping, and blessing him for a pret- 
ty youth, tripped lightly from the cham- 
ber ; the boots tried haply twice or thrice 
to call him (as boots will fain), but the 
lovely boy, giving another snore, turned 
on his side, and was quite unconscious of 
the interruption. In a word, the youth 
slept for six-and-thirty hours at an elonga- 
tion ; and the Sunday sun was shining, and 
the bells of the hundred churches of Co- 
logne were clinking and tolling in pious 
festivity, and the burghers and burgher- 
esses of the town were trooping to vespers 
and morning service when Otto awoke. 

As he donned his clothes of the richest 
Genoa velvet, the astonished boy could not 
at first account for his difiiculty in putting 
them on. ‘ ‘ Marry, ” said he aloud, ‘ ‘ these 
breeches that my blessed mother” (tears 
filled his fine eyes as he thought of her) — 
“that my blessed mother had made long 
on purpose, are now ten inches too short 
for me. Whir-r-r ! my coat cracks i’ the 
back, as in vain I try to buckle it round 
me ; and the sleeves reach no farther than 
my elbows ! What is this mystery ? Am 
I grown fat and tall in a single night ? Ah! 
ah ! ah ! ah 1 1 have it. ” 

The young and good-humored Childe 
laughed merrily. He bethought him of 
the reason of his mistake : his garments 
had shrunk from being five-and-twenty 
miles under water. 

But one remedy presented itself to his 
mind ; and that w'e need not say was to 
purchase new ones. Inquiring the way to 
the most genteel ready-made-clothes’ es- 
tablishment in the city of Cologne, and 
finding it was kept in the Minoriten Stras- 
S3, by an ancestor of the celebrated Moses 
2 


of London, the noble Childe hied him to- 
wards the emporium ; but you may be sure 
did not neglect to perform his religious 
duties by the way. Entering the cathe- 
dral, he made straight for the shrine of 
Saint Buffo, and hiding himself behind a 
pillar there (fearing he might be recog- 
nized by the archbishop, or any of his 
father’s numerous friends in Cologne), 
he proceeded with his devotions, as was 
the practice of the young nobles of the 
age. 

But though exceedingly intent upon the 
service, yet his eye could not refrain from 
wandering a litUe round about him, and he 
remarked with surprise that the whole 
church W’as filled with archers ; and he 
remembered, too, that he had seen in the 
streets numerous other bands of men simi- 
larly attired in green. On asking at the 
cathedral porch the cause of this assem- 
blage, one of the green ones said (in a 
jape), “Marry, youngster, you must be 
green, not to know that we are all bound 
to the castle of his Grace, Duke Adolf of 
Cleves, who gives an archery meeting once 
a year, and prizes for which we toxophil- 
ites muster strong.” 

Otto, whose course hitherto had been 
undetermined, now immediately settled 
what to do. He straightway repaired to 
the ready-made emporium of Herr Moses, 
and bidding that gentleman furnish him 
with an archer’s complete dress, Moses 
speedily selected a suit from his vast 
stock, which fitted the youth to a t, and 
we need not say was sold at an exceedingly 
moderate price. So attired (and bidding 
Herr Moses a cordial farewell), young 
Otto was a gorgeous, a noble, a soul- 
inspiring boy to gaze on. A coat and 
breeches of the most brilliant pea-green,’ 
ornamented with a profusion of brass but- 
tons, and fitting him with exquisite tight- 
ness, showed oft’ a figure unrivalled for 
slim symmetry. His feet were covered 
with jjeaked buskins of buff leather, and 
a belt round his slender waist, of the same 


18 


A LEGEND OF THE EHINE. 


material, held his knife, his tohacco-pipe 
and pouch, and his long shining dirk ; 
Tvhich, though the adventurous youth had 
as yet only employed it to fashion wicket- 
bails, or to cut bread-and-cheese, he was 
now quite Veady to use against the enemy. 
His personal attractions were enhanced by 
a neat white hat, flung cai-elessly and fear- 
lessly on one side of his open, smiling 
countenance ; and his lovely hair, curling 
in ten tliousand yellow ringlets, fell over 
his shoulder like golden epaulettes, and 
down his back as far as the waist-buttons 
of his coat. I warrant me, many a love- 
ly Colnerinn looked after the handsome 
Childe with anxiety, and dreamed that 
night of Cupid under the guise of “a 
bonny boy in green. ” 

So accoutred, the youth’s next thought 
was, that he must supply himself with a 
bow. This he speedily purchased at the 
most fashionable bowyer’s, and of the best 
material and make. It was of ivory, 
trimmed with pink ribbon, and the cord 
of silk. An elegant quiver, beautifully 
painted and embroidered, was slung across 
his back, with a dozen of the finest arrows, 
tipped with steel of Damascus, formed of 
the branches of the famous Upas-tree of 
Java, and feathered with the wings of 
the ortolan. These purchases being com- 
pleted (together with that of a knapsack, 
dressing-case, change, &c.), our young ad- 
venturer asked where was the hostel at 
which the archers were wont to assemble ? 
and being informed that it was at the sign 
of the “Golden Stag,” hied him to that 
house of entertainment, where, by calling 
for quantities of liquor and beer, he speed- 
ily made the acquaintance and acquired 
the good will of a company of his future 
comrades, who happened to be sitting in 
the coffee-room. 

After they had eaten and drunken for 
all, Otto said, addressing them, “When 
go ye forth, gentles ? I am a stranger 
here, bound as you to the archery meeting 
of Duke Adolf. An ye wi 1 admit a youth 


into your company ’twill gladden me upon 
my lonely way ?” 

The archers replied, “You seem so 
young and jolly, and you spend your gold 
so very like a gentleman, that we’ll receive 
you in our band with pleasure. Be ready, 
for we start at half-past two !” At that 
hour accordingly the whole joyous com- 
pany prepared to move, and Otto net a 
little increased his popularity among them 
by stepping out and having a conference 
with the landlord, which caused the latter 
to come into the room where the archers 
were assembled previous to departure, 
and to say, “Gentlemen, the bill is set- 
tled !” — words never ungi-ateful to an 
archer yet : no, marry, nor to a man of 
any other calling that I wot of. 

They marched joyously for several 
leagues, singing and joking, and telling 
of a thousand feats of love, and chase, and 
war. While thus engaged, some one re- 
marked to Otto, that he was not dressed 
in the regular uniform, having no feathers 
in his hat. 

“ I daresay I will find a feather,” said 
the lad, smiling. 

Then another gibed because his bow 
was new. 

“See that you can use your old one as 
well. Master Wolfgang,” said the undis- 
turbed youth. His answers, his bearing, 
his generosity, his beauty, and his wit, in- 
spired all his new toxophilite friends with 
interest and curiosity, and they longed to 
see whether his skill with the bow corres- 
ponded with their secret sympathies for 
him. 

An occasion for manifesting this skill 
did not fail to present itself soon — as in- 
deed it seldom does to such a hero of ro- 
mance as young Otto was. Fate seems to 
watch over such : events occur to them 
j ust in the nick of time ; they rescue vir- 
gins just as ogres are on the point of de- 
vouring them ; they manage to be present 
at court and interesting ceremonies, and 
to see the most interesting people at the 


A TiEGEND OF THE KHINE. 


19 


most interesting moment ; directly an ad- 
venture is necessary for them, that ad- 
venture occurs : and I, for my i)art, have 
often wondered witli delight (and never 
could penetrate the mystery of the sub- 
ject) at the way in which that humblest 
of romance heroes, Signor^ Clown, when 
he wants anything in the Pantomime, 
straightway finds it to his hand. How is 
it that, — suppose he wishes to dress him- 
self up like a woman for instance, that 
minute a coalheaver walks in with a shovel - 
hat that answers for a bonnet ; at the very 
next instant a butcher’s lad passing with 
a string of sausages and a bundle of blad- 
ders unconsciously helj)s Master Clown 
to a necklace and a tournure, and so on 
through the whole toilet ? Depend upon 
it there is something we do not wot of in 
that mysterious overcoming of circum- 
stances by great individuals : that apt and 
wondrous conjuncture of the Hour and the 
Man ; and so, for my part, when I heard 
the above remark of one of the archers, 
that Otto had never a feather in his bon- 
net, I felt sure that a heron would spring 
up in the next sentence to supply him 
with an aigrette. 

And such indeed was the fact : rising 
out of a morass by which the archers were 
passing, a gallant heron, arching his neck, 
swelling his crest, placing his legs behind 
him, and his beak and red eyes against 
the wind, rose slowly, and ofl’ered the 
fairest mark in the world. 

“Shoot, Otto,” said one of the archers. 
“You would not shoot just now at a crow 
because it was a foul bird, nor at a hawk 
because it was a noble bird ; bring us 
down yon heron : it flies slowly.” 

But Otto was busy that moment tying his 
shoestring, and Budolf, the third best of 
the archers, shot at the bird and missed it. 

“Shoot, Otto,” said Wolfgang, a youth 
who had taken a liking to the young 
archer: “the bird is getting further and 
further.” 

But Otto was busy that moment whit- 


tling a willow-twig he had just cut. Max, 
the second best archer, shot and missed. 

“Then,” said Wolfgang, “I must try 
myself : a jjlague on you, young springald, 
you have lost a noble chance !” 

Wolfgang i^repared himself with all his 
care, and shot at the bird. “It is out of 
distance,” said he, “and a murrain on the 
bird !” 

Otto, w ho by this time had done whit- 
tling his willow-stick (having carved a 
capital caricature of Wolfgang upon it), 
flung the twig down, and said carelessly, 
“ Out of distance ! Pshaw ! We have two 
minutes yet,” and fell to asking riddles and 
cutting jokes ; to the which none of the 
archers listened, as they were all engaged, 
their noses in air, watching the retreating 
bird. 

“MTiere shall I hit him ?” said Otto. 

“Go to,” said Rudolf, “thou canst see 
no limb of him : he is no bigger than a 
flea.” 

“Here goes for his right eye!” said 
Otto ; and stepjjing forward in the Eng- 
lish manner (which his godfather having 
learnt in Palestine, had taught him), he 
brought his bowstring to his ear, took a 
good aim, allowing for the w'ind and cal- 
culating the parabola to a nicety. Whizz I 
his arrow went off. 

He took uji the wdllow^-twig again and 
began carving a head of Rudolf at the 
other end, chatting and laughing, and 
singing a ballad the while. 

The archers, after standing a long time 
looking skywards with their noses in the 
air, at last brought them down from the 
perpendicular to the horizontal position, 
and said, “Pooh, this lad is a humbug ! 
The arrow’s lost ; let’s go.” 

Heads /” cried Otto, laughing. A speck 
w^as seen rapidly descending from the hea- 
vens ; it grew to be as big as a crow n- 
piece, then as a partridge, then as a tea- 
kettle, and flop I down fell a magnificent 
heron to the ground, flooring poor Max in 
its fall. 


20 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


“Take the arrow out of his eye, Wolf- j 
gang,” said Otto, without looking at the 
bird : “wipe it, and put it back into my 
quiver. ” 

The. arrow indeed was there, having 
2Jenetrated right through the pupil. 

“Are you in league with Der Frei- 
schiitz ?” said Rudolf, quite amazed. 

Otto laughingly whistled the “ Hunts- 
man’s Chorus,” and said “ No, my friend. 
It was a lucky shot : only a lucky shot. 

I was taught shooting, look you, in the 
fashion of merry England, where the arch- 
ers are archers indeed.” 

And so he cut off the heron’s wing for a 
plume for his hat ; and the archers walked 
on, much amazed, and saying, “What a 
wonderful country that merry England 
must be !” 

Far from feeling any envy at their com- 
rade’s success, the jolly archers recognized 
his superiority with pleasure ; and Wolf- 
gang and Rudolf especially held out their 
hands to the younker, and besought the 
honour of his friendship. They continued 
their walk all day, and when night fell, 
made choice of a good hostel, you may be 
sure, where over beer, punch, champagne, 
and every luxury, they drank to the health 
of the Duke of Cleves, and indeed each 
other’s healths all round. Next day they 
resumed their march, and continued it 
without interruption, except to take in a 
supply of victuals here and there (and it 
was fund on these occasions that Otto, 
young as he was, could eat four times as 
much as the oldest archer present, and 
drink to correspond) ; and these continued 
refreshments having given them more tlian 
ordinary strength, they determined on 
making rather a long march of it, and did 
not halt till after nightfall at the gates of 
the little town of Windeck. 

What was to be done ? the town-gates 
were shut. “Is there no hostel, no castle 
where we can sleejD ?” asked Otto of the 
sentinel at the gate. “I am so hungry. 


[ that in lack of better food I think I could 
eat my grandmamma.” 

The sentinel laughed at this hyperboli- 
cal expression of hunger, and said, “ You 
had best go sleep at the Castle of Windeck 
yonder;” adding with a peculiarly knowing 
look, “Nobody will disturb j’^ou there.” 

At that moment the moon broke out from 
a cloud, and showed on a hill hard by a 
castle indeed — but the skeleton of a castle. 
The roof was gone, the windows were dis- 
mantled, the towers were tumbling, and 
the cold moonlight pierced it through and 
through. One end of the building w'as, 
however, still covered in, and stood look- 
ing still more frowning, vast, and gloomy, 
even than the other j)art of the edifice. 

“There is a lodging, certainly,” said 
Otto to the sentinel, who pointed towards 
the castle with his bartizan; “but tell 
me, good fellow, what are we to do for a 
supper ?” 

“ Oh, the castellan of Windeck will en- 
tertain you,” said the man-at-arms with a 
grin, and marched up the embrasure ; the 
while the archers, taking counsel among 
themselves, debated whether or not they 
should take uj^ their quarters in the gloomy 
and deserted edifice. 

“We shall get nothing but an owl for 
supper there,” said young Otto. “Mar- 
ry, lads, let us storm the town ; we are 
thtrty gallant fellows, and I have heard 
the garrison is not more than three hun- 
dred. ” But the rest of the party thought 
such a way of getting supper was not a 
very cheap one, and, grovelling knaves, 
2 )referred rather to sleep ignobly and with- 
out victuals, than dare the assault with 
Otto, and die, or conquer something com- 
fortable. 

One and all then made their way towards 
the castle. They entered its vast and si- 
lent halls, frightened the owls and bats 
that fled before them with hideous boot- 
ings and flai:)pings of wings, and passing 
by a multiplicity of mouldy stairs, dank 


A LEGEND OF THE KHINE. 


'21 


reeking roofs, and rickety corridors, at 
last came to an apartment which, dismal 
and dismantled as it was, appeared to be 
in rather better condition than the neigh- 
bouring chambers, and they therefore se- 
lected it as their place of rest for the 
night. They then tossed up which should 
mount guao’d. The first two hours of 
watch fell to Otto, who was to to be suc- 
ceeded by his young though humble friend 
Wolfgang ; and, accordingly, the Childe 
of Godesberg, drawing his dirk, began to 
pace upon his weary round ; while his 
comrades, by various gradations of snoring, 
told how profoundly they slept, spite of 
their lack of supper. 

’Tis needless to say what were the 
thoughts of the noble Childe as he per- 
formed his two hours’ watch ; w'hat gush- 
ing memories poured into his full soul ; 
what “sweet and bitter ” recollections of 
home inspired his throbbing heart ; and 
w hat manly aspirations after fame buoyed 
him up. “ Youth is ever confident,” says 
the bard. Happy, happy season ! The 
moon-lit hours passed by on silver wings, 
the twinkling stars looked friendly dowm 
upon him. Confiding in their youthful 
sentinel, sound slept the valorous tox- 
ophilites, as up and down, and there and 
back again, marched on the noble Childe. 
At length his repeater told him, much 
to his satisfaction, that it w^as half-past 
eleven, the hour when his watch was to 
cease ; and so, giving a playful kick to 
the slumbering Wolfgang, that good-hu- 
mored fellow sprung up from his lair, 
and, draw ing his SAVord, proceeded to re- 
lieve Otto. 

The latter laid him down for warmth’s 
sake on the very spot Avhich his comrade 
had left, and for some time could not 
slee^j. Realities and visions then began 
to mingle in his mind, till he scarce kneAv 
Avhich Avas Avhich. He dozed for a min- 
ute ; then he Avoke Avith a start ; then he 
went off again ; then woke up again. In 
one of these half-sleeping moments he 


thought he saw a figure, as of a woman in 
Avhite, gliding into the room, and beckon- 
ing Wolfgang from it. He looked again. 
W^olfgang was gone. At that moment 
tweRe o’clock clanged from the town, and 
Otto started up. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE LADY OF AVINDECK. 

As the bell wuth iron tongue called mid- 
night, Wolfgang the Archer, pacing on his 
watch, beheld before him a pale female 
figure. He did not know whence she 
came : but there suddenly she stood close 
to him. Her blue, clear, glassy eyes were 
fixed upon him. Her form w’as of fault- 
less beauty ; her face pale as the marble 
of the fairy statue, ere yet the sculptor’s 
love had given it life. A smile played 
upon her features, but it w'as no warmer 
than the reflection of a moon-beam on a 
lake ; and yet it was wondrous beautiful. 
A fascination stole over the senses of young 
Wolfgang. He stared at the lovely appa- 
rition with fixed eyes and distended jaws. 
She looked at him wdth ineffable archness. 
She lifted one beautifully rounded alabas- 
ter arm, and made a sign as if to beckon 
him toAvards her. Did Wolfgang — the 
young and lusty Wolfgang — follow' ? Ask 
the iron whether it follows the magnet ? — 
ask the pointer whether it pursues the 
partridge through the stubble ? — ask the 
youth Avhether the lollipop-shop does not 
attract him ? Wolfgang did follow. An 
antique door opened, as if by magic. 
There was no light, and yet they saAV 
quite plain : they passed through the 
innumerable ancient chambers, and yet 
they did not wake any of the oavIs and 
bats roosting there. We know not through 
how many apartments the young couple 
passed ; but at last they came to one 
Avhere a feast w'as prepared ; and on an 


22 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


antique table, covered with massive silver, 
covers were laid for two. The lady took 
her place at one end of the table, and with 
her sweetest nod beckoned Wolfgang to 
the other seat. He took it. The table 
was small, and their knees met. He felt 
as cold in his legs as if he were kneeling 
against an ice-well. 

“ Gallant archer,” said she, “you must 
be hungry after your day’s march. What 
supper will you have ? Shall it be a deli- 
cate lobster-salad ? or a dish of elegant 
tripe and onions ? or a slice of boar’s- 
head and truffles ? or a Welsh rabbit d la 
cave au cidre ? or a beefsteak and shallot ? 
or a couple of rognons d h brochette? 
Speak, brave bowyer : you have but to 
order.” 

As there was nothing on the table but a 
covered silver dish, Wolfgang thought 
that the lady who proposed such a multi- 
plicity of delicacies to him was only laugh- 
ing at him ; so he determined to try her 
with something extremely rare. 

“Fair princess,” he said, “I should like 
very much a pork-chop and some mashed 
potatoes. ” 

She lifted the cover : there was such a 
2)ork-chop as Simpson never served, with 
a dish of mashed potatoes that would have 
formed at least six portions in our de- 
generate days in Rupert Street. 

When he had helped himself to these 
delicacies, the lady put the cover on the 
dish again, and watched him eating with 
interest. He was for some time too much 
occupied with his own food to remark that 
his companion did not eat a morsel ; but 
big as it was, his chop was soon gone ; tlie 
shining silver of his plate was scraped 
quite clean with his knife, and, heaving a 
great sigh, he confessed a humble desire 
for something to drink. 

“ Call for what you like, sweet sir,” said 
the lady, lifting up a silver filigree bottle, 
with an india-rubber cork, ornamented 
with gold. 

“Then,” said Master Wolfgang — for the 


fellow’s tastes were, in sooth, very hum- 
ble — “I call for half-and-half.” Accord- 
ing to his wish, a pint of that delicious 
beverage was poured from the bottle, 
foaming, into his beaker. 

Having emptied this at a draught, and 
declared that on his conscience it was the 
best tap he ever knew in his life, the 
young man felt his appetite renewed ; 
and it is impossible to say how many dif- 
ferent dishes he called for. Only enchant- 
ment, he was afterwards heard to declare 
(though none of his friends believed him), 
could have given him the appetite he pos- 
sessed on that extraordinary night. He 
called for another pork-chop and potatoes, 
then for pickled salmon ; then he thought 
he would try a devilled turkey*-wing. “ I 
adore the devil,” said he. 

“So do I,” said the pale lady, with 
unwonted animation ; and the dish was 
served straightway. It was succeeded by 
black-puddings, tripe, toasted cheese, 
and — what was most remarkable — every 
one of the dishes which he desired came 
from under the same silver cover ; which 
circumstance, when he had j^ai’taken of 
about fourteen different articles, he began 
to find rather mysterious. 

“Oh,” said the j^ale lady, with a smile, 
“the mystery is easily accounted for ; the 
servants hear you, and the kitchen is he- 
low.” But this did not account for the 
manner in which more half-and-half, bit- 
ter ale, punch (both gin and rum), and 
even oil and vinegar, which he took with 
cucumber to his salmon, came out of the 
self-same bottle from which the lady 
had first poured out his pint of half-and- 
half. 

“ There are more things in heaven and 
earth, Yoracio,” said his arch entertainer, 
when he put this question to her, “than 
are dreamt of in your philosophy and, 
sooth to say, the archer was by this time 
in such a state, that he did not find any- 
thing Avonderful more. 

“Are you hapijy, dear youth ?” said the 


A LECxEND OF THE KHINE. 


23 


lady, as, after his collation, he sank hack 
in his chair. 

“Oh, miss, ain’t I !” was his inteiToga- 
tive and yet affirmative reply. 

“ Should you like such a supper every 
night, Wolfgang ?” continued the pale 
one. 

“Why, no,” said he ; “no, not exactly ; 
not e.vei'y night : soine nights I should like 
oysters.” 

“Dear youth,” said she, “ be but mine, 
and you may have them all the year 
round !” The unhappy boy was too far 
gone to suspect anything, otherwise this 
extraordinary speech would have told him 
that he was in suspicious comjjauy. A 
person who can offer oysters all the year 
round can live to no good purpose. 

“ Shall I sing you a song, dear archer ?” 
said the lady. 

“Sweet love!” said he, now much ex- 
cited, “strike up, and I will join the 
chorus.” 

She took down her mandolin, and com- 
menced a ditty. ’Twas a sweet and Avild 
one. It told how a lady of high lineage 
cast her eyes on a peasant page ; it told 
how nought could her love assauge, her 
suitor’s wealth and her father’s rage : it 
told how the youth did his foes engage ; 
and at length they went off in the Gretna 
stage, the high-born dame and the peasant 
page. Wolfgang beat time, waggled his 
head, sung wof ully out of tune as the song 
I^roceeded ; and if he had not been too 
intoxicated with love and other excite- 
ment, he w'ould have remarked how the 
pictures on the wall, as the lady sung, be- 
gan to waggle their heads too, and nod 
and grin to the music. The song ended. 
“I am the lady of high lineage : Ai*cher, 
w'ill you be the peasant page ?” 

“I’ll follow you to the devil I” said 
Wolgang. 

“Come,” replied the lady, glaring Avild- 
ly on him, “ come to the chaiDel ; we’ll be 
married this minute !” 


She held out her hand — Wolfgang took 
it. It was cold, damjD — deadly cold ; and 
on they went tq the chapel. 

As they passed out, the two pictures 
over the w’all, of a gentleman and lady, 
tripped lightly out of their frames, skipjDed 
noiselessly down to the ground, and mak- 
ing the retreating couple a profound curt- 
sey and bow, took the places which they 
had left at the table. 

Meanwhile the young couple passed on 
tow'ards the chapel, threading innumerable 
passages, and ^jassing through chambers 
of great extent. As they came along, all 
the portraits on the Avail stepped out of 
their frames to follow them. One ancestor, 
of whom there was only a bust, frowned 
in the greatest rage, because, having no 
legs, his pedestal would not move ; and 
several sticking-plaster profiles of the for- 
mer Lords of Windeck looked quite black 
at being, for similar reasons, compelled to 
keep their places. However, there was a 
goodly procession formed behind Wolf- 
gang and his bride ; and by the time they 
reached the church, they had near a hun- 
dred followers. 

The church Avas splendidly illuminated ; 
the old banners of the old knights glittered 
as they do at Drury Lane. The organ set 
up of itself to play the “Bridesmaid’s 
Chorus.” The choir-chairs were filled 
with people in black. 

“Come, love,” said the pale lady. 

“I don’t see the parson,” exclaimed 
Wolfgang, spite of himself rather alarmed. 

“ Oh, the parson 1 that’s the easiest thing 
1 in the Avoiid * I say, bishop !” said the 
lady, stooping down. 

Stooping doAvn — and to what ? Why, 
upon my Avord and honour, to a great 
brass plate on the floor, over Avhich they 
were passing, and on which was engraven 
the figure of a bishop — and a very ugly 
bishop, too — with crosier and mitre, and 
lifted finger, on Avhich sparkled the epis- 
copal ring. “ Do, my dear lord, come 


24 


A LEGEND OF THE KHINE. 


and marry us,” said the lady, Avitli a levity 
which shocked the feelings of her bride- 
groom. 

The bishop got up ; aud directly he 
rose, a dean, wdio was sleeping under a 
large slate near him, came bowing and 
cringing up to him ; while a canon of the ca- 
thedral (whose name w’as Schidnischmidt), 
began grinning and making fun at the pair. 
The ceremony was begun, and . . . 

As the clock struck twelve, young Otto 
bounded up, and remarked the absence of 
his companion Wolfgang. The idea he 
had had, that his friend disappeared in 
comj)any with a white-robed female, struck 
him more and more. “I will follow them, ” 
said he ; and, calling to the next on the 
watch (old Snozo, who was right unwilling 
to forego his sleep), he rushed away by 
the door through which he had seen Wolf- 
gang and his temptress take their way. 

That he did not find them was not his 
fault. The castle was vast, the chamber 
dark. There were a thousand doors, and 
what wonder that, after he had once lost 
sight of them, the intrepid Childe should 
not be able to follow in their steps ? As 
might be exxjected, he took the wrong 
door, and w^andered for at least three 
hours about the dark enormous solitary 
castle, calling out AVolf gang’s name to the 
careless and indifferent echoes, knocking 
his young shins against the ruins scattered 
in the darkness, but still with a spirit en- 
tirely undaunted, and a firm resolution to 
aid his absent comrade. Brave Otto ! thy 
exertions were rewarded at last ! 

For he lighted at length upon the very 
apartment where Wolfgang had partaken 
of supper, and where the old coui^le who 
had been in the picture-frames, and turned 
out to be the lady’s father and . mother, 
were now sitting at the table. 

“Well, Bertha has got a husband at 
last,” said the lady. 

“After waiting four hundred and fifty- 
three years for one, it was quite time,” 


said the gentleman. (He was dressed in 
powder and a pigtail, quite in the old , 
fashion.) 

“The husband is no great things,” con- 
tinued the lady, taking snuff. “A low 
fellow, my dear ; a butcher’s son, I be- 
lieve. Did you see how the wretch ate at 
supper ? To think my daughter should 
have to marry an archer !” 

“There are archers and archei*s,” said 
the old man. “Some archers are snobs, 
as your ladyship states ; some, on the con- 
trary, are gentlemen by birth, at least, 
though not by breeding. Witness young 
Otto, the Landgrave of Godesberg’s son, 
who is listening at the door like a lacquey, 
and whom I intend to run through the—” 

“Law, Baron 1” said the lady. 

“I will, though,” replied the Baron, 
drawing an immense sword, and glaring 
round at Otto : but though at the sight of 
that sword and that scowl a less valorous 
youth would have taken to his heels, the 
undaunted Childe advanced at once into 
the apartment. He wore round his neck 
a relic of St. Buffo (the tip of the saint’s 
ear, which had been cut off at Constanti- 
nople). “Fiends ! I command you to 
retreat !” said he, holding up this sacred 
charm, which his mamma had fastened on 
him ; and at the sight of it, with an un- 
earthly yell the ghost of the Baron and the 
Baroness sprung back into their x^icture- 
frames, as clown goes through a clock in 
a i^antomime. 

He rushed through the ox)en door by 
which the unlucky Wolfgang had passed 
with his demoniacal bride, and went on 
and on through the vast gloomy chambers 
lighted by the ghastly moonshine : the 
noise of the organ in the chapel, the lights 
in the kaleidoscopic windows, directed 
him towards that edifice. He rushed to 
the door : ’twas barred ! He knocked : 
the beadles were deaf. He applied his 
inestimable relic to the lock, and whizz ! 
crash ! clang ! bang ! whang ! — the gate 
flew open ! the organ went off in a fugue — 


A LEGEND OF THE KHINE. 


25 


the lights quivered over the tapers, and : 
then went otf towards the ceiling — the ' 
ghosts assembled rushed away with a ' 
scurry and a scream — the bride howled, ^ 
and vanished — the fat bishop waddled I 
back under his brass plate — the dean | 
tlounced down into his family vault — and 1 
the canon Schidnischmidt, who was mak- ' 
ing a joke, as usual, on the bishop, was j 
obliged to stop at the very point of his ' 
epigram, and to disai^i^ear into the void ; 
whence he came. 

Otto fell fainting at the porch, while 
Wolfgang tumbled lifeless down at the i 
altar-steps ; and in this situation the arch- j 
ers, when they arrived, found the two • 
youths. They were resucitated, as we | 
scarce need say ; but when, in incoherent ! 
accents, they came to tell their wondrous 
tale, some sceptics among the archers said 
— “Pooh ! they were intoxicated !” while 
others, nodding their older heads, ex- j 
claimed — “ They have seen the Lady of W in- 
deck L' and recalled the stories of many 
other young men, who, inveigled by her 
devilish arts, had not been so lucky as 
Wolfgang, and had disai^i^eared — for ever. | 

This adventure bound Wolfgang heart 
and soul to his gallant preserver ; and the 
archers — it being now morning, and the 
cocks crowing lustily round about — pur- 
sued their way without further delay to 
the castle of the noble patron of toxophi- 
lites, the gallant Duke of Cleves. 


CHAPTER X. 

. THE BATTLE OF THE BOWMEN. 

Although there lay an immense num- 
ber of castles and abbeys between Win- 
deck and Cleves, for every one of which j 
the guide-books have a legend and a ghost, | 
who might, with the commonest stretch of ! 
ingenuity, be made to waylay our adven- 
turers on the road ; yet, as the journey | 


would be thus almost interminable, let us 
cut it short by saying that the travellers 
reached Cleves without any further acci- 
dent, and found the place thronged with 
visitors for the meeting next day. 

And here it would be easy to describe 
the company wLich arrived, and make dis- 
play of antiquarian lore. Now Ave would 
represent a cavalcade of knights arriving, 
with there pages carrying their shining 
helms of gold, and the stout esquires, 
bearers of lance and banner. Anon would 
arrive a fat abbot on his ambling 2 )ad, 
surrounded by the white-robed comi)an- 
ions of the convent. Here should come 
the gleemen and jongleurs, the minstrels, 
the mountebanks, the particolored gijj- 
sies, the dark-eyed, nut-brown Zigeuner- 
innen ; then a troop of peasants chanting 
Rhine-songs, and leading in their ox-drawn 
carts the peach-cheeked girls from the 
vine-lands. Next we would dejjict the lit- 
ters blazoned with armorial bearings, from 
between the broidered curtains of which 
l^eeped out the swan-like necks and the 
haughty faces of the blonde ladies of the 
castles. But for these descrij)tions Ave 
have not si)ace ; and the reader is referred 
to the account of the tournament in the 
ingenious noA^el of “Ivanhoe,” where the 
above j^henomena are described at length. 
Suffice it to say, that Otto and his com- 
panions arrived at the toAvn of Cleves, and 
hastening to a hostel, re230sed themselves 
after the day’s march, and prepared them 
for the encounter of the morrow. 

That morrow came : and as the spoHs 
Avere to begin early, Otto and his com- 
rades hastened to the field, armed Avith 
their best boAvs and arrows, you may be 
sure, and eager to distinguish themselves ; 
as Avere the multitude of other archers as- 
sembled. They Avere from all neighbor- 
ing countries — croAvds of English, as you 
may fancy, armed Avith Murray’s guide- 
books, troojjs of chattering Frenchmen, 
Frankfort Jcavs Avith roulette-tables, and 
Tyrolese, Avith gloves and trinkets — all 


26 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


hied towards the field where the butts 
were set up, and the archery practice was 
to be held. The Childe and his brother 
archers were, it need not be said, early on 
the ground. 

But what w’ords of mine can describe 
the young gentleman’s emotion when, pre- 
ceded by a band of trumpets, bagpipes, 
ophicleides, and other wind instruments, 
the Prince of Cleves appeared with the 
princess Helen, his daughter ? And ah ! 
what expressions of my humble pen can 
do justice to the beauty of that young la- 
dy ? Fancy every charm which decorates 
the person, every virtue which ornaments 
the mind, every accomplishment which 
renders charming mind and charming per- 
son doubly charming, and then you will 
have but a faint and feeble idea of the 
beauties of her Highness the Piincess Hel- 
en. Fancy a complexion such as they say 
(I know not with what justice) Rowland’s 
Kalydor imparts to the users of that cos- 
metic ; fancy teeth to which’ orient j^eaiis 
are like Wallsend coals ; eyes, w'hich w^ere 
so blue, tender, and bright, that while 
they run you through with their lustre, 
they healed you with their kindness ; a 
neck and waist, so ravishingly slender and 
graceful, that the least that is said about 
them the better ; a foot which fell ui^on 
the flow^ers no heavier than a dewdrop — 
and this charming person set off by the 
most elegant toilet that ever milliner de- 
fused ! The lovely Helen’s hair (w'hich was 
as black as the finest varnish for boots) 
was so long, that it w'as borne on a cush- 
ion several yards behind her by the maid- 
ens of her train ; and a hat, set off w'ith 
moss-roses, sun-flow^ers, bugles, bii-ds-of- 
paradise, gold lace, and pink ribbon, gave 
her a cUstingui air, which would have set 
the editor of the Morning Post mad with 
love. 

It had exactly the same effect upon the 
noble Childe of Godesberg, as leaning on 
his ivory bow, with his legs crossed, he 
stood and gazed on her, as Cupid gazed 


on Psyche. Their eyes met : it was all 
over with both of them. A blush came at 
one and the same minute budding to the 
cheek of either. A simultaneous throb 
beat in those young hearts ! They loved 
each other for ever from that instant. 
Otto still stood, cross-legged, enraptured, 
leaning on his ivory bow ; but Helen, call- 
ing to a maiden for her pocket-handker- 
chief, blew her beautiful Grecian nose in 
order to hide her agitation. Bless ye, 
bless ye, pretty ones ! I am old now ; but 
not so old but that I kindle at the tale of 
love. Theresa MacWhirter too has lived 
and loved. Heigho ! 

Who is yon chief that stands behind the 
truck whereon are seated the Princess and 
the stout old lord, her father ? Who is 
he whose hair is of the carroty hue ? 
whose eyes, across a snubby bunch of a 
nose, are perpetually scowling at each 
other ; who has a hump-back, and a hid- 
eous mouth, surrounded with bristles, and 
crammed full of jutting yellow odious 
teeth. Although he wears a sky-blue 
doublet laced with silver, it only serves to 
render his vulgar punchy figure doubly 
ridiculous ; although his nether garment 
is of salmon-colored velvet, it only draws 
the more attention to his legs, wliich are 
disgustingly crooked and bandy. A rose- 
colored hat, with towering pea-green os- 
trich-plumes, looks absurd on his bull- 
head ; and though it is time of jDeace, the 
wretch is armed with a multij)licity of 
daggers, knives, yataghans, dirks, sabres, 
and scimitars, which testify his truculent 
and bloody disposition. ’Tis the terrible 
Rowski de Donnerblitz, Margrave of Eu- 
lenschreckenstein. Report says he is a 
suitor for the hand of the lovely Helen. 
He addresses various speeches of gallantry 
to her, and grins hideously as he thrusts 
his disgusting head over her lily shoulder. 
Blit she turns away from him ! turns and 
shudders — ay, as she would at a black 
dose ! 

Otto stands gazing still, and leaning on 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


. 27 


his bow. “What is the prize ?” asks one 
archer of another. There are two 23 rizes — 
a velvet cap, embroidered by the hand of 
the Princess, and a chain of massive gold, 
of enormous value. Both lie on cushions 
before her. 

“ I know which I shall choose, when I 
win the first prize,” says a swarthy savage, 
and bandy-legged archer, who bears the 
owl gules on a black shield, the cogni- 
zance of the Lord Eowski de Donnerblitz. 

“Which, fellow?” says Otto, turning 
fiercely upon him. 

“ The chain, to be sure !” says the leer- 
ing archer. “You do not suppose I am 
such a fiat as to choose that velvet gim- 
crack there ?” Otto laughed in scorn, and 
began to jjrepare his bow. The trumpets 
sounding proclaimed that the sports were 
about to commence. 

Is it necessary to describe them ? No : 
that has already been done in the novel of 
“ Ivanhoe ” before mentioned. Fancy the 
archers clad in Lincoln green, all coming 
forward in turn, and firing at the targets. 
Some hit, some missed ; those that missed 
were fain to retire amidst the jeers of the 
multitudinous spectators. Those that hit 
began new trials of skill ; but it was easy 
to see, from the first, that the battle lay 
between Squintoff (the Rowski archer) and 
the young hero with the golden hair and 
the ivory bow. Squintoft’s fame as a 
marksman was known throughout Europe ; 
but who was his young competitor ? Ah ! 
there was one heart in the assembly that 
l>€at most anxiously to know. ’Twas 
Helen’s.’ 

The crowning trial arrived. The bull’s- 
eye of the target, set up at three-quarters 
of a mile distance from the archers, was 
so small, that it required a very clever 
man indeed to see, much more to hit it ; 
and as Squintoff was selecting his arrow 
for the final trial, the Rowski flung a small 
purse of gold towards the archer, saying — 
“ Squintoff, an ye wun the jDrize, the i3urse 
is thine.” “I may as well pocket it at 


once, your honor,” said the bowman, wuth 
a sneer at Otto. “ This young chick, who 
has been lucky as yet, will hardly hit such 
a mark as that.” And, taking his aim, 
Squintoff discharged his arrow right into 
the very middle of the bull’s-eye. 

“ Can you mend that, young S 2 )ringald ?” 
said he, as a shout rent the air at his suc- 
cess, as Helen turned pale to think that 
the champion of her secret heart was likely 
to be overcome, and as Squintoff, pocket- 
ing the Row ski’s money, turned to the no- 
ble boy of Godesberg. 

“Has anybody got a pea?” asked the 
lad. Everybody laughed at his droll re- 
quest ; and an old woman, who was sell- 
ing 23orridge in the crowd, handed him the 
vegetable which he demanded. It w'as a 
dry and yellow i)ea. Otto, stejDping up to 
the target, caused Squintoff to extract his 
arrow from the bull’s-eye, and placed in 
the orifice made by the steel point of the 
shaft, the pea which he had received from 
the old "woman. He then came back to 
his place. As he iDrejiared to shoot, Hel- 
en was so overcome by emotion, that ’twas 
thought she would have fainted. Never, 
never had she seen a being so beautiful as 
the young hero now before her. 

He looked almost divine. He flung 
back his long clusters of hair from his 
bright eyes and tall forehead ; the blush 
of health mantled on his cheek, from which 
the barber’s weapon had never shorn the 
do'wn. He took his bow, and one of his 
most elegant arrows, and i^oising himself 
lightly on his right leg, he flung himself 
forward, raising his left leg on a level with 
his ear. He looked like Apollo, as he stood 
balancing himself there. He discharged 
his dart from the thrumming bowstiing : 
it clove the blue air — whizz ! 

“He liaii split the pea said the Princess, 
and fainted. The Rowski, with» one eye, 
hurled an indignant look at the boy, while 
with the other he levelled (if aught so 
crooked can be said to level anything) a 
furious glance at his archer. 


28 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


The archer swore a siilky oath. “ He is 
the better man!” said he. “I suppose 
young chap, yon take the gold chain ?” 

“The gold chain ?” said Otto. “ Prefer 
a gold chain to a cap worked by that au- 
gust hand ? Never !” And advancing to 
the balcony where the Princess, who now 
came to herself, was sitting, he kneeled 
down before her, and received the velvet 
cap ; which, blushing as scarlet as the cap 
itself, the Princess Helen placed on his 
golden ringlets. Once more their eyes 
met — their hearts thiilled. They had nev- 
er spoken, but they knew they loved each 
other for ever. 

“Wilt thou take service with the Row- 
ski of Donnerblitz ?” said that individual 
to the youth. “Thou shalt be captain of 
my archers in place of yon blundering nin- 
compoop, whom thou hast overcome. ” 

“Yon blundering nincompoop is a skil- 
ful and gallant archer,” replied Otto, 
haughtily ; “ and I will not take service 
with the Rowski of Donnerblitz. ” 

“Wilt thou enter the household of the 
Prince of Cleves ?” said the father of Hel- 
en, laughing, and not a little amused at 
the haughtiness of the humble archer. 

“ I would die for the Duke of Cleves 
and Ids family,'''’ said Otto, bowing low. 
He laid a particular and tender emphasis 
on the w ord family. Helen knew w'hat he 
meant. She w^as the family. In fact, her 
mother was no more, and her papa had no 
other offspring. 

“ What is thy name, good fellow,” said 
the Piince, “ that my steward may enrol 
thee ?” 

“Sir,” said Otto, again blushing, “I 
am Otto the AitCHER. ” 


, CHAPTER XI. 

THE ^lARTYll OF LOVE. 

The archers who had travelled in com- 
pany with young Otto, gave a handsome 


dinner in compliment to the success of 
our hero ; at w^hich his friend distinguished 
himself as usual in the eating and drink- 
ing department. Squintoff, the Row^ski 
bow-man, declined to attend ; so great was 
the em’y of the brute at the youthful 
hero’s superiority. As for Otto himself, 
he sat on the right hand of the chairman ; 
but it w'as remarked that he could not eat. 
Gentle reader of my page I thou knowest 
why full well. He w'as too much in love 
to have any appetite ; for though I myself, 
w'hen laboring under that j)assion, never 
found my consumption of victuals dimin- 
ish, yet remember our Otto was a hero of 
romance, and they nevei' are hungry when 
they are in love. 

The next day, the young gentleman pro- 
ceeded to enrol himself in the corps of 
Archers of the Prince of Cleves, and with 
him came his attached squire, who vowed 
he never would leave him. As Otto threw' 
aside his owm elegant dress, and donned 
the livery of the House of Cleves, the noble 
Cliilde sighed not a little. ’ Twas a splen- 
did uniform ’tis true, but still it was a liv- 
ery, and one of his proud spiiit ill bears 
another’s cognisances. “They are the 
colors of the Princess, however,” said he, 
consoling himself ; ‘ ‘ and what suffering 
would I not undergo for liei'?'’’ As for 
Wolfgang, the squire, it may be well to 
suppose that the good-natured, low'-born 
fellow" had no such scruples ; but he w as 
glad enough to excliange for the pink hose, 
the yellow jacket, the pea-green cloak, and 
j orange-tawmy hat, wdth which the Duke’s 
I steward sux^plied him, the homely patched 
[ doublet of green which he had w'orn for 
years past. 

“Look at yon two archers,” said the 
PiTnce of Cleves to his guest the Rowski of 
Donnerblitz, as they w’ere strolling on the 
battlements after dinner, smoking their 
cigars as usual. His Highness pointed to 
our two young friends, who w'ere mount- 
ing guard for the first time'. “ See yon tw'o 
bowmen — mark their bearing I One is the 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


29 


youth Avho beat tlij Squintoif, and t’other, 
an I mistake not, won the third j^rize at 
the butts. Both wear the same uniform — 
the colors of my house — yet, Avouldst not 
swear that the one was but a churl, and 
the other a noble gentleman ?” 

“ Which looks like the nobleman ?” 
said the Rowski, as black as thunder, 

“ Which? why young Otto, to be sure,” 
said the Princess Helen, eagerly. The 
young lady was following the pair ; but 
under the j^i’etence of disliking the odor 
of the cigar, she had refused the Rowski’s 
proffered aiTQ, and was loitering behind 
with her parasol. 

Her interposition in favor of her young 
13rotege only made the black and jealous 
Rowski more ill-humored. “ How long is 
it, Sir Prince of Cleves,” said he, “that 
the churls who wear your livery permit 
themselves to wear the ornaments of noble 
knights ? Who but a noble dare wear 
ringlets such as yon springald’s ? Ho, 
archer !” roared he, “ come hither, fellow.” 
And Otto stood before hirn. As he came, 
and presenting arms stood respectfully 
before the Prince and his savage guest, he 
looked for one moment at the lovely Hel- 
en — their eyes met, their hearts beat si- 
multaneously : and quick, two little blush- 
es appeared in the cheek of either. I have 
seen one ship at sea answering another’s 
signal so. 

While they are so regarding each other 
let us just remind our readers of the great 
estimation in which the hair was held in 
the North. Only nobles were pennitted 
to wear it long. When a man disgraced 
himself, a shaving was sure to follow. 
Penalties were inflicted upon villains and 
vassals who sported ringlets. See the 
works of Aurelius Tonsor ; Hirsutus de 
Nobilitate Capillari ; Rolandus de Oleo 
Macassari ; Schnurrbart ; Frisirische Al- 
terihumskunde, Ac. 

“We must have those ringlets of thine 
cut, good fellow,” said the Duke of Cleves, 
good-naturedly, but wishing to spare the 


j feelings of his gallant recruit. “ ’Tis 
against the regulation cut of my archer 
guard.” 

“ Cut off my hair ?” cried Otto, ago- 
i nized. 

I “Ay, and thine ears with it, yokel i” 
roared Donnerblitz. 

“Peace, noble Eulenschreckenstein,” 
said the Duke, with dignity : “let the 
Duke of Cleves deal as he will with his 
own men-at-arms. x\nd you, young sir, 
unloose the grij) of thy dagger. ” 

Otto, indeed, had convulsively grasj)ed 
his snickersnee, with intent to plunge it 
1 into the heart of the Rowski ; but his po- 
I liter feelings overcame him. “ The count 
need not fear, my lord,” said he : “ a lady 
is present. ” And he took off his orange- 
tawny cap and bowed low. Ah ! what a 
pang shot through the heart of Helen, as 
she thought that those lovely ringlets 
j must be shorn from that beautiful head. 

Otto’s mind was, too, in commotion. 
His feelings as a gentleman — let us add, 
his pride as a man — for who is not, let us 
I ask, proud of a good head of hair ? — waged 
j war within his soul. He expostulated with 
, the Prince. “ It was never in my com- 
I templation,” he said, “ on taking service, 
j to undergo the operation of hair-cutting.” 

“Thou ari free to go or stay. Sir Arcli- 
er,” said the Prince, pettishly. “I will 
have no churls imitating noblemen in my 
I service : I will bandy no conditions with 
; archers of my guard.” 
j “My resolve is taken,” said Otto, irri- 
tated too in his turn. “I will . . . .” 

“What?” cried Helen, breathless with 
intense agitation. 

“ I will stay” answered Otto. The poor 
girl almost fainted with joy. The Rowski 
frowned with demoniac fury, and grinding 
his teeth and cursing in the horrible Ger- 
man jargon, stalked away. “So be it,” 
said the Prince of Cleves, taking his 
daughter’s arm — “and here comes Snip- 
witz, my barber, who shall do the busi- 
ness for you.” With this the Prince too 


30 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


moved on, feeling in liis heart not a little 
compassion for the lad ; for Adolf of Cleves 
had been handsome in his yonth, and dis- 
tinguished for the ornament of which he 
was now deprmng his archer. 

Snipwitz led* the poor lad into a side- 
room, and there — in a word — operated up- 
on him. The golden curls — fair curls that 
his mother had so often jDlayed with ! — fell 
under the shears and round the lad’s 
knees, until he looked as if he was sitting 
in a bath of sunbeams. 

When the frightful act had been per- 
formed, Otto, who entered the little cham- 
ber in the tower ringletted like Apollo, is- 
sued from it as cropped as a charity -boy. 

See how melancholy he looks, now that 
the operation is over ! — And no wonder. 
He was thinking what would be Helen’s 
opinion of him, now that one of his chief 
l^ersonal ornaments was gone. “Will she 
know me ?” thought he: “ will she love me 
after this hideous mutilation ?” 

Yielding to these gloomy thoughts, and, 
indeed, rather unwilling to be seen by his 
comrades, now that he was so disfigured, 
the young gentleman had hidden himself 
behind one of the buttresses of the wall, 
a prey to natural despondency ; when he 
saw something which instantly restored 
him to good spirits. He saw the lovely 
Helen coming towards the chamber where 
the odious barber had performed upon 
him, — coming forv^ard timidly, looking 
round her anxiously, blushing with de- 
lightful agitation, — and ‘presently seeing, 
as she thought, the coast clear, she enter- 
ed the apartment. She stooped down, and 
ah ! what was Otto’s joy when he saw her 
pick up a beautiful golden lock of his hair, 
press it to her lips, and then hide it in her 
bosom ! No carnation ever blushed so red- 
ly as Helen did when she came out after 
performing this feat. Then she hurried 
straightway to her own apartments in the 
castle, and Otto, whose first impulse was 
to come out from his hiding-j^lace, and, 
falling at her feet, call heaven and earth to 


witness to his passion, with difficulty re- 
strained his feelings and let her pass : but 
the love-stricken young hero was so de- 
lighted with this evident proof of reciproca- 
ted attachment, that all regret at losing his 
ringlets at once left him, and he vowed he 
would sacrifice not only his hair, but his 
head, if need were, to do her service. 

That very afternoon, no small bustle and 
conversation took j^lace in the castle, on 
account of the sudden departure of the 
Rowski of Eulenschreckenstein, with all 
his train and equipage. He went away in 
the greatest wrath, it was said, after a long 
and loud conversation with the Prince. 
As that potentate conducted his guest to 
the gate, walking rather demurely and 
shamefacedly by his side, as he gathered 
his attendants in the court, and there 
mounted his charger, the Rowski ordered 
his trumpets to sound, and scornfully 
flung a largesse of gold among the seiwi- 
tors and men-at-arms of the House of 
Cleves, who were marshalled in the couid. 
“Farewell, Sir Prince,” said he to his host: 
“I quit you now suddenly ; but remember 
it is not my last visit to the Castle of 
Cleves.” And ordering his band to play 
“See the Conquering Hero comes,” he 
clattered away through the drawbridge. 
The Princess Helen was not present at his 
departure ; and the venerable Prince of 
Cleves looked rather moody and chapfall- 
en when his guest left him. He visited all 
the castle defences pretty accurately that 
night, and inquired of his officers the state 
of the ammunition, provisions, &c. He 
said nothing : but the Princess Helen’s 
maid did : and everybody knew that the 
Rowski had made his proposals, had been 
rejected, and, getting up in a violent fury, 
had called for his peoj)le, and sworn by 
his great gods that he would not enter the 
castle again until he rode over the breach, 
lance in hand, the conqueror of Cleves and 
all belonging to it. 

Great consternation was spread through 
the garrison at the news ; for everybody 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


31 


knew the Rowski to be one of the most in- 
trepid and powerful soldiers in all Ger- 
many — one of the most skilful generals. 
Generous to extravagance to his own fol- 
lowers, he was ruthless to the enemy : a 
hundred stories were told of the dreadful 
barbarities exercised by him in several 
towns and castles which he had captured 
and sacked. And poor Helen had the 
pain of thinking, that in consequence of 
her refusal she Avas dooming all the men, 
women, and children of the princii3ality to 
indiscriminate and horrible slaughter. 

The dreadful surmises regarding a AV'ar 
receh^ed in a feAV days dreadful confirma- 
tion. It Avas noon, and the Avorthy Prince 
of Cleves Avas taking his dinner (though 
the honest Avanior had had little appetite 
for that meal for some time i^ast), when 
trampets were heard at the gate ; and 
23resently the herald of the Rowski of 
Donnerblitz, clad in a tabard on which the 
arms of the Count were blazoned, entered 
the dining-hall. A page bore a steel gaunt- 
let on a cushion ; Bleu Sanglier had his 
hat on his head. The Prince of Cleves 
13ut on his OAvn, as the herald came up to 
the chair of state where the soA^ereign sat. 

“Silence for Bleu Sanglier,” cried the 
Prince, gravely. “Say your say, Sir 
Herald.” 

“ In the name of the high and mighty 
Rowski, Prince of Donnerblitz, Margrave 
of Eulenschreckenstein, Count of Kroten- 
Avald, Schnauzestadt, and Galgenhugel, 
Hereditary Grand Corkscrew of the Holy i 
Roman Empire — to you, Adolf the TAven- * 
ty-third, Prince of CleA’es, I, Bleu San- 
glier, biing war and defiance. Alone, and 
lance to lance, or tAventy to twenty in field 
or in fort, on jfiain or on mountain, the ! 
noble RoAvski defies you. Here, or wher- j 
ever he shall meet you, he iDroclaims war j 
to the death between you and him. In ; 
token Avhereof, here is his glove. ” And j 
taking the steel glove from the page. Bleu | 
Boar flung it clanging on the marble floor. 

The Princess Helen turned deadly pale : 


j but the Prince, Avith a good assurance, flung 
1 down his own glove, calling upon some one 
j to raise the Rowski’s ; Avhich Otto accord- 
ingly took up and jAresented to him, on 
' his knees. 

i “Boteler, fill uja my goblet,” said the 
Prince to that functionary, Avho, clothed 
in tight black hose, Avith a kerchief, and a 
i napkin on his dexter arm, stood obse- 
; quiously by his master’s chair. The gob- 
I let Avas filled with Malvoisie : it held about 
! three quaris ; a precious golden hanaj) 

I caiwed by the cunning artificer BenA'en- 
' uto the Florentine. 

“Drink, Bleu Sanglier, ” said the Prince, 

I “ and j^ut the goblet in thy bosom. Wear 
this chain, furthermore, for my sake. ” 
And so saying, Prince Adolf flung a i^re- 
cious chain of emeralds round the herald’s 
neck. “ An iiiA'itation to battle was ever 
a Avelcome call to Adolf of CleA’-es.” So 
! saying, and bidding his people take good 
I care of Bleu Sanglier’s retinue, the Prince 
; left the hall Avith his daughter. All Avere 
I marvelling at his dignity, courage and 
generosity. 

But, though affecting unconcern, the 
mind of Prince Adolf was far from tran- 
quil. He was no longer the stalwart knight 
; who, in the reign of Stanislaus Augustus, 

I had, with his naked fist, beaten a lion to 
; death in three minutes ; and alone had 
I kejit the postern of Peterwaradin for two 
: hours against seven hundred Turkish jan- 
issaries who were assailing it. Those 
j deeds which had made the heir of CleA^es 
I famous were done tliiriy years syne. A 
free liver since he had come into his jDrin- 
cipality, and of a lazy turn, he had neg- 
lected the athletic exercises Avhich had 
made him in youth so famous a chamiDion, 
and indolence had borne its usual fruits. 
He tried his old battle-SAVord — that famous 
blade with Avhich, in Palestine, he had 
cut an elei^hant-driver in two pieces, and 
split asunder the skull of the elei)haiit 
which he rode. Adolf of CleA^es could 
scarcely noAv lift tlie Aveaj^on oA'er his head. 


32 


A LEGEND OF THE EHINE. 


He tried his armor. It was too tight for 
him. And the old soldier burst into tears, 
when he found he could not buckle it. 
Such a man was not fit to encounter the 
terrible Eowski in single combat. 

Nor could he hope to make head against 
him for any time in the field. The Prince’s 
territories were small ; his vassals jjroverb- 
ially lazy and j^^^-cefnl ; his treasury 
empty. The dismallest prospects were 
before him ; and he passed a sleepless 
night writing to his friends for succor, and 
calculating with his secretary the small 
amount of the resources which he could 
bring to aid him against his advancing 
and powerful enemy. 

Helen’s pillow that evening was also un- 
visited by slumber. She lay awake think- 
ing of Otto — thinking of the danger and 
the ruin her refusal to marry had brought 
uj^on her papa. Otto, too, slept not ; but 
his waking thoughts were brilliant and 
heroic : the noble Childe thought how he 
should defend the Princess, and win los 
and honor in the ensuing combat. 


CHAPTER Xn. 

THE CHAMPION. 

And now the noble Cleves began in good 
earnest to prepare his castle for the threat- 
ened siege. He gathered in all the avail- 
able cattle round the property, and the 
liigs round many miles ; and a dreadful 
slaughter of horned and snouted animals 
took place — the whole castle resounding 
with the lowing of the oxen and the 
stpieaks of the gruntlings, destined to jiro- 
vide food for the garrison. These, when 
slain (her gentle spirit, of course, would 
not allow of her witnessing that disagree- 
al)le oiieration), the lovely Helen, with the 
assistance of her maidens, carefully salted 
and pickled. Corn was brought in in 
great quantities, the Prince paying for the 


same when he had money, giving bills 
when he could get credit, or occasionally, 
marry, sending out a few stout men-at- 
arms to forage, who brought in wheat 
without money or credit either. The 
charming Princess, amidst the intervals 
of her labors, went about encouraging tlie 
garrison, who vowed to a man they would 
die for a single sweet smile of hers ; and in 
order to make their inevitable sufferings 
as easy as possible to the gallant fellows, 
she and the apothecaries got ready a plenty 
of efficacious simples, and scraped a vast 
quantity of lint to bind their warrior’s 
w^ounds withal. All the fortifications were 
strengthened ; the fosses carefully filled 
with siiikes and water ; large stones placed 
over the gates, convenient to tumble on 
the heads of the assaulting jiarties ; and 
cauldrons prepared, with furnaces to melf 
up pitch, brimstone, boiling oil, &c., 
wherewith hospitably to receive them. 
Having the keenest eye in the whole gar- 
rison, young Otto was placed on the top- 
most tower, to watch for the expected com- 
ing of the beleaguering host. 

They were seen only too soon. ^Long 
ranks of shining spears were seen glitter- 
ing in the distance, and the army of the 
Rowski soon made its appearance in bat- 
tle’s magnificently stern array. The tents 
of the renowned chief and his numerous 
warriors were pitched out of arrow-shot 
of the castle, but in fearful proximity ; 
and when his army had taken up its posi- 
tion, an officer with a flag of truce and a 
trumpet was seen advancing to the castle 
gate. It was the same herald who had 
previously borne his master’s defiance to 
the Prince of Cleves. He came once more 
to the castle gate, and there proclaimed 
that the noble Count of Eulenschrecken- 
stein was in arms without, ready to do 
battle with the Prince of Cleves, or his 
champion ; that he would remain in arms 
for three days, ready for combat. If no 
man met him at the end of that period, 
he would deliver an assault, and would 


A LEGEND OF THE KHINE. 


33 


give quarter to no single soul in the garri- 1 
son. So saying, the herald nailed his lord’s 
gauntlet on the castle gate. As before the 
Prince flung him over another glove from 
the wall ; tliough how he was to defend 
himself from such a warrior, or get a cham- 
pion, or resist the pitiless assault that must 
follow, the troubled old nobleman knew 
not ill the least. 

The Princess Helen passed the night in 
the chapel, vowing tons of wax-candles to 
all the patron saints of the House of Cleves, 
if they would raise her up a defender. 

But how did the noble girl’s heart sink 
— how were her notions of the purity of 
man shaken within her gentle bosom, by 
the dread intelligence which reached her 
the next morning, after the. defiance of the 
Bowski ! At roll-call it was discovered 
that he on whom she principally relied — 
he whoin her fond heart had singled out 
as her champion, had proved faithless ! 
Otto, the degenerate Otto, had fled ! His 
comrade, Wolfgang, had gone wnth him. 
A rope was found dangling from the case- 
ment of thetr chamber, and they mnst have 
swam the moat and passed over to the en- 
emy in the darkness of the iirevious night. 
“A pretty lad was this fair-spoken archer 
of thine !” said the Prince, her father, to 
her ; “and a jiretty kettle of fish hast thou 
cooked for the fondest of fathers. ” She re- 
tired weeping to her apartment. Never be- 
fore had that young heart felt so wretched. 

That morning, at nine o’clock, as they 
were going to breakfast, the Bowski’s 
trumpets sounded. Clad in complete ar- 
mor, and mounted on his enormous pie- 
bald charger, he came out of his i^avilion, 
and rode slowly up and down in front of 
the castle. He was ready there to meet a 
champion. 

Three times each day did the odious 
trumpet sound the same notes of defiance. 
Thrice daily did tlie steel-clad Bowski 
come forth challenging the combat. The 
first day passed, and there was no answer i 
to his summons. The second day came | 
3 


I and went, but no champion had risen to 
defend. The taunt of his shrill clarion re- 
mained without answer ; and the sun went 
down upon the wretchedest father and 
daughter in all the land of Christendom. 

The trumpets sounded an hour after sun- 
rise, an hour after noon, and an hour be- 
fore sunset. The third day came, but with 
it brought no hope. The first and second 
summons met no response. At five o’clock 
the old Prince called his daughter and 
blessed her. “ I go to meet this Bowski,” 
said he. “It may be we shall meet ho 
more, my Helen — my child — the innocent 
cause of all this grief. If I shall fall to- 
night the Bowski’s victim, ’twill be that 
life is nothing without honor.” And so 
saying, he put into her hands a dagger, 
and bade her sheathe it in her own breast 
so soon as the terrible chafiipion had car- 
ried the castle by storm. 

This Helen most faithfully promised to 
do : and her aged father retired to his arm- 
ory, and donned his ancient war-worn corse- 
let. It had borne the shock of a thousand 
lances ere this, but it w'as now so tight as 
almost to choke the knightly wearer. 

The last trumpet sounded — tantara! tan- 
tar ! — its shrill call rang over the wide 
plains, and the wide plains gave back no 
answer. Again ! —but when its notes died 
away, there was only a mournful, an awful 
silence. “Farewell, my child,” said the 
Prince, bulkily lifting himself into his bat- 
tle-saddle. “ Bemember the dagger. — 
Hark ! the trumpet sounds for the third 
time. Open, warders ! Sound, trumpet- 
ers! and good St. Bendigo guard the righJ.” 

But Puffendorf, the trumpeter, had not 
leisure to lift the trumi^et to his lips : when, 
hark ! from without there came another 
note of another clarion ! — a distant note at 
first, then swelling fuller. Presently, in 
brilliant variations, the full rich notes of 
the “Huntsman’s Chorus” came clearly 
over the breeze ; and a thousand voices of 
I the crowd gazing over the gate exclaimed, 

I “A champion I a champion !” ^ 


34 


A LEGEND OF THE KHINE. 


And, indeed, a champion had come. Is- 
suing from the forest came a knight and 
squire : the knight gracefully cantering an 
elegant cream-colored Arabian of prodig- 
ious jDower — the squire mounted on an un- 
pretending grey cob ; which, nevertheless, 
was an animal of considerable strength and 
sinew. It was the squire who blew the 
trumpet, through the bars of his helmet ; 
the knight’s visor was completely down. 
A small prince’s coronet of gold, from 
which rose three pink ostrich-feathers, 
marked the warrior’s rank: his blank shield 
bore no cognizance. As gracefully poising 
his lance he rode into the green space 
where the Kowski’s tents were ^Ditched, the 
hearts of all present beat with anxiety, and 
the poor Prince of Cleves, especially, had 
considerable doubts about his new cham- 
pion. “ So slim a figure as that can never 
compete with Donnerblitz, ” said he, mood- 
ily, to his daughter ; “but whoever he be, 
the fellow puts a good face on it, and lides 
like a man. See, he has touched the Row- 
ski’s shield with the i)oint of his lance ! 
By St. Bendigo, a perilous venture !” 

The unknown knight had indeed defied 
the Eowski to the death, as the Prince 
of Cleves remarked from the battlement 
where he and his daughter stood to wit- 
ness the combat ; and so, having defied his 
enemy, the Incognito galloped round un- 
der the castle wall, bowing elegantly to 
the lovely Princess there, and then took 
his ground and Avaited for the foe. His 
armor blazed in the sunshine as he sat 
there, motionless, on his cream-colored 
steed. He looked like one of those fairy 
knights one has read of — one of those ce- 
lestial champions who decided so many vic- 
tories before the invention of gunpowder. 

The Rowski’s horse was speedily brought 
to the door of his pavilion ; and that re- 
doubted warrior, blazing in a suit of mag- 
nificent brass armor, clattered into his sad- 
dle. Long Avaves of blood-red feathers 
bristled over his helmet, Avhich Avas far- 
ther ornamented by two huge horns of the 


aurochs. His lance Aras painted white and 
red, and he A^iirled the prodigious beam 
in the air and caught it Avith savage glee. 
He laughed Avhen he saw the slim form of 
his antagonist ; and his soul rejoiced to 
meet the coming battle. He dug his spurs 
into the enormous horse he rode : the enor- 
mous horse snorted, and squealed, too, 
with fierce j)leasure. He jerked and curv- 
etted him with a brutal playfulness, and 
after a few minutes’ turning and wheeling, 
during which everybody had leisure to ad- 
mire the perfection of his equitation, he 
cantered round to a point exactly opj^osite 
his enemy, and pulled up his impatient 
charger. 

The oW Prince on the battlement Avas so 
eager for the combat, that he seemed quite 
to forget the danger which menaced him- 
self should his champion be discomfited 
by the tremendous Knight of Donnerblitz. 

“ Go it !” said he, flinging his truncheon 
into the ditch ; and at the word, the tAvo 
AV’arriors rushed Avith Avdiirling rapidity at 
each other. 

And now ensued a combat so terrible, 
that a Aveak female hand, like that of her 
who i^ens this tale of chivalry, can never 
hope to do justice to the terrific theme. 
You haA’e seen tAvo engines on the Great 
Western line rush past each other with a 
pealing scream ? So rapidly did the two 
warriors gallop towards one another ; the 
feathers of either streamed yards behind 
their backs as they converged. Their 
shock as they met was as that of two can- 
n*on-balls ; the mighty horses trembled and 
reeled Avith the concussion ; the lance 
aimed at the Rowski’s helmet bore off the 
coronet, the horns, the helmet itself, and 
hurled them to an incredible distance : a 
piece of the Rowski’s left ear Avas carried 
off on the point of the nameless warrior’s 
weapon. Hoav had he fared ? His adver- 
sary’s Aveapon had glanced harmless along 
the blank surface of his polished buckler ; 
and the victory so far Av^as Avith him. 

The expression of the RoAvski’s faee, as. 


A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 


35 


bareheaded, lie glared on his enemy with 
fierce blood-shot eyeballs, was one worthy 
of a demon. The imprecatory express- 
ions which he made use of can never be 
copied by a feminine pen. 

His opponent magnanimously declined 
to take advantage of the opportunity thus 
offered him of finishing the combat by 
splitting his opponent’s skull with his 
cui*tal-axe, and, riding back to his starting 
place, bent his lance’s point to the ground, 
in token that he would wait until the 
Count of Eulenschreckenstein was hel- 
meted afresh. ^ 

“ Blessed Bendigo !” cried the Prince, 
“thou art a gallant lance : but why didst 
not ’rap the Schelm’s brain out ?” 

“ Bring me a fresh helmet !” yelled the 
Rowski. Another casque was brought to 
him by his trembling squire. • 

As soon as he had braced it, he drew his 
great flashing sword from his side, and 
rushed at his enemy, roaring hoarsely his 
cry of battle. The unknown knight’s 
sword was unsheathed in a moment, and 
at the next the two blades were clanking 
together the dreadful music of the combat. 

The Donnerblitz wielded his with his 
usual savageness and activity. It whirled 
round his adversary’s head with frightful 
rai^idity. Now it carried away a feather 
of his plume ; now it shore off a leaf of 
his coronet. The !lail of the thrasher 
does not fall more swiftly upon the corn. 
For many minutes it was the Unknown’s 
only task to defend himself from the tre- 
mendous activity of the enemy. 

But even the Rowski’s strength would 
slacken after exertion. The blows began 
to fall less thick anon, and the imint of 
the unknown knight began to make dread- 
ful play. It found and penetrated every 
joint of the Donnerblitz’s armor. Now 
it nicked him in the shoulder, where 
the vambrace Avas buckled to the corselet ; 
now it bored a shrewd hole under the light- 
brassart, and blood followed ; noAV, Avith 
fatal dexterity, it darted through the A'isbr, 


and came back to the recover deeply 
tinged with blood. A scream of rage fol- 
lowed the last thrust ; and no wonder : — 
it had penetrated the Rowski’s left eye. 

His blood was trickling through a dozen 
orifices ; he was almost choking in his 
helmet wdth loss of breath, and loss of 
blood, and rage. Gasping with fury, he 
drew back his horse, flung his great sword 
at his opponent’s head, and once more 
plunged at him, wielding his curtal-axe. 

Then you should have seen the un- 
known knight employing the same dread- 
ful weapon ! Hitherto he had been on his 
defence ; now he began the attack ; and 
the gleaming axe whirred in his hand like 
a reed, but descended like a thunderbolt ! 
“Yield ! yield ! Sir Rowski,” shouted he, 
in a calm, clear voice. 

A blow dealt madly at his head was the 
reply. ’Twas the last bloAv that the Count 
of Eulenschreckenstein ever struck in bat- 
tle ! The curse Avas on his lips as the 
crushing steel descended into his brain, 
and split it in two. He rolled like a log 
from his horse : his enemy’s knee was in a 
moment on his chest, and the dagger of 
mercy at his throat, as the knight once 
more called upon him to yield. 

But there was no answer from within 
the helmet. When it was withdrawn, the 
teeth were crunched together ; the mouth 
that should have spoken grinned a ghastly 
silence : one eye still glared with hate and 
fury, but it was glazed Avith the film of 
death ! 

The red orb of the sun was just then 
dipping into the Rhine. The unknown 
knight, vaulting once more into his sad- 
dle, made a graceful obeisance to th:; 
i Prince of Cleves and his daughter, Avithout 
a word, and galloped back into the forest, 
Avhence he had issued an hour before sun- 
set. 


36 


A LEGEND OF THE KHINE. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE aiAIOUAGE. 

The consternation wliicli ensued on the 
death of the Rowski, speedily sent all his 
camp-folloAvcrs, army, Ac., to the right- 
about. They struck their tents at the first 
news of his discomfiture and each man 
laying hold of what he could, the whole 
of the gallant force which had marched 
under his banner in the morning had dis- 
appeared ere the sun rose. 

On that night, as it may be imagined, 
the gates of the Castle of Cleves were not 
shut. Everybody was free to come in. 
Wine-butts were broached in all the courts; 
the pickled meat j)repared in such lots ^or 
the siege was distributed among the peo- 
ple, who crowded to congratulate their 
beloved sovereign on his victory ; and the 
Prince, as was customary with that good 
man, who never lost an opi^ortunity of 
giving a dinner-party, had a splendid en- 
tertainment made ready for the uj^per 
classes, the whole concluding wdth a taste- 
ful dis23lay of fireworks. 

In the midst of these entertainments, 
our old friend the Count of Hombourg 
arrived at the castle. The stalwart old 
warrior swore by Saint Bugo tliat liq was 
grieved tfie killing of the Rowski had 
been taken out of his hand. The laugh- 
ing Cleves vowed by Saint Bendigo, Ilom- 
bourg could never have finished off his 
enemy so satisfactorily as the unknown 
knight had just done. 

But who was he ? was the question w'hich 
now agitated the bosom of these two old 
nobles. How to find him — how to reward 
the champion and restorer of the lionor 
and lia23piness of Cleves ? They agreed 
over su2323er that he should be sought for 
everywhere. Beadles were sent round the 
23rinci23al cities within fifty miles, and the 
description of the knight advertised in the 
Journal de Francfort and the AUgemeine 
Zeitung^ The hand of the Princess Helen 
was solemnly offered to him in these ad- 


vertisements, with the reversion of the 
Prince of Cleves’ S23lendid though some- 
what dila23idated 23ro23erty. 

“But wo don't knoAV him, ''my dear 
papa,” faintly ejaculated that young lady. 
“Some im230stor may come in a suit of 
23lain armor, and 25i’etend that he was the 
cham23ion who overcame the Rowski (a 
23rince vdio had his faults certainly, but 
whose attachment for me I can never for- 
get) ; and how are yen to say whether he 
is the real knight or not ? There are so 
many deceivers in this world,” added the 
Princess, in tears, “ that one can’t be too 
cautious now. ” The fact is, that she was 
thinking of the desertion of Otto in the 
mot’ning ; by which instance of faithless- 
ness her' heart was-well nigh broken. 

As for that youth and his comrade Wolf- 
gang, to the astonishment of everybody at 
their impudence, they came to the arch- 
ers’ mess that night, as if nothing had 
happened ; got their su23per, 2 ^artaking 
both of meat and drink most plentifully ; 
fell asleep wLen their comrades began to 
describe the events of the day, and the 
admirable achievements of the unknown 
warrior : and, toning into their ham- 
mocks, did not ap23ear on 25arade in the 
morning until tw'enty minutes after the 
names were called. 

When the Prince of Cleves heard of the 
return of these deserters he was in a tow- 
ering passion. “Where were you, fellows,” 
shouted he, ‘ ‘ during the time my caatle 
was at its utmost need ?” 

Otto re23lied, “We were out on particu- 
lar business.” 

“ Does a soldier leave his 25ost on the 
day of battle, sir ?” exclaimed the Prince. 
“You know the reward of such — Death ! 
and death you merit. But you are a sol- 
dier only of yesterday, and yesterday’s vic- 
tory has made me merciful. Hanged you 
shall net be, as you merit — only flogged, 
both of you. Parade the men. Colonel 
Tickelstern, after breakfast, and give these 
scoundrels five hundred apiece.” 


A LEGEND OF THE KHINE. 


37 


You should have seen how young Otto 
hounded, when this information was thus 
abruptly conveyed to him. “Flog meT 

cried he. “Flog Otto of ” 

“Not so, my father,” said the Princess 
Helen, who had been standing by during 
the conversation, and who had looked at 
Otto all the while with the most ineffable 
scorn. “ Not so : although these persions 
have forgotten their duty” (she laid a par- 
ticular sarcastic emphasis on the word 
persons), “ we have had no need of their 
services, and have luckily found oihei's 
more faithful. Y’’ou promised your daugh- 
ter a boon, papa ; it is the pardon of these 
two pei'smis. Let them go, and quit a ser- 
vice they have disgraced ; a mistress — 
that is, a master — they have deceived. ” 
“Drum ’em out of the castle, Tickel- 
stern ; strip their uniforms from their 
backs, and never let me hear of the scoun- 
drels again.” So saying, the old Prince 
angnly turned on his heel to breakfast, 
leaving the two young men to the fun and 
derision of their surrounding comrades. 

The noble Count of Hombourg, who was 
taking his usual airing on the ram^Darts 
before breakfast, came up at this juncture 
and asked what was the row ? Otto 
blushed when he saw him, and turned 
away rapidly ; but tlie Count, too, catch- 
ing a glimpse of him, with a hundred ex- 
clamations of joyful surprise seized upon 
the lad, hugged him to his manly breast, 
kissed him most affectionately, and almost 
burst into tears as he embraced him. For, 
in sooth, the good Count had thought his 
godson long ere this at the bottom of the 


! 


I 


I 


I 

! 


1 


silver Khine. 

The Prince of Cleves, who had come to 
the breakfast-parlor window, (to invite his | 
guest to enter, as the tea Avas made,) be- 
held this strange scene from the window, 
as did the lovely tea-maker likewise, with 
breathless and beautiful agitation. The 
old Count and the archer strolled up and 
down the battlements in deep conversa- 
tion. By the gestures of surprise and de- 


light exhibited by the former, ’twas' easy 
to see the young archer was conveying 
some very strange and jileasing news to 
him ; though the nature of the conversa- 
tion Avas not allowed to transpire. 

“A godson of mine,” said the noble ^ 
Count, when interrogated over his muffins. 

“ I knoAv his family ; Avorthy peoi)le ; sad 
scape-grace ; ran away ; i^arents longing 
for him ; glad you did not flog him ; devil 
to pay,” and so forth. The Count Avas a 
man of feAV Avords, and told his tale in this 
brief, artless manner. But why, at its 
conclusion, did the gentle Helen leave the 
room, her eyes filled Avith tears ? She left 
the room once more to kiss a certain lock 
of yellow hair she had pilfered. A daz- 
zling, delicious thought, a strange wild 
hope arose in her soul ! 

When she appeared again, she made 
side-handed inquiries regarding Otto (Avith 
that gentle artifice oft employed by avo- 
men) ; but he was gone. He and his com- 
panion were gone. The Count of Hom- 
bourg had likeAvise taken his departure, 
under the pretext of i)articular business. 
How lonely the vast castle seemed to Hel- 
en, now that he was no longer there. The 
transactions of the last few days ; the 
beautiful archer-boy ; the offer from the 
Ptowski (always an event in a young lady’s 
life) ; the siege of the castle ; the death of 
her truculent admirer : all seemed like a 
fevered dream to her all Avas passed aAA ay 
and had left no trace behind. No trace ? 
— yes ! one : a little insignificent lock of 
golden hair, OA^er Avhich the young crea- 
ture wept so much that she jDut it out of 
curl ; 2)assing hours and hours in the sum- 
mer-house, Avhere the operation had been 
performed. 

On the second day (it is ‘my belief she 
Avould have gone into a consumption and 
died of languor, if the event had been de- 
layed a day longer,) a messenger, A\uth a 
trumpet, brought a letter in haste to the 
Prince of Cleves, Avho was, as i^iial, tak- 
ing refreshment. “ To the High and 


38 


A LEGEND OF THE KHINE. 


Miglily Prince,” tlie letter ran, “ The 
Champion who had the honor of engaging 
on Wednesday last Avith his late Excel- 
lency the Kowshi of Donnerblitz, presents 
his compliments to H. S. H. the Prince of 
Cleves. Through the medium of the pub- 
lic prints the C. has been made acquainted 
AA'ith the flattering i^roi^osal of his Serene 
Highness relative to a union between him- 
self (the Champion) and Her Serene High- 
ness the Princess Helen of Cleves. The 
Chami^ion accepts Avith pleasure that po- 
lite invitation, and will have the honor of 
Avaiting upon the Prince and Princess of 
Cleves about half an hour after the receipt 
of this letter.” 

“Tollol de rol, girl,” said the Prince 
Avith heartfelt joy. (Have you not remark- 
ed, dear friend, how often in noA^el-books, 
and on the stage, joy is announced by the 
above burst of insensate monqsyllables ?) 
“ Tol lol de rol. Don thy best kirtle, 
child ; thy husband Avill be here anon.” 
And Helen retired to arrange her toilet for 
this awful event in the life of a young avo- 
man. "WTien she returned, attired, to Avel- 
come her defender, her young cheek Avas 
as pale as the white satin slip and orange 
sx)rigs she Avore. 

She Avas scarce seated on the dais by her 
father’s side, when a huge flourish of 
trumpets from without proclaimed the 
arrival of the Champion. Helen felt quite 
sick : a draught of ether Avas necessary to 
restore her tranquility. 

The great door was flung open. He en- 
tered — the same warrior, slim, and beau- 
tiful, blazing in shining steel. He ajD- 
XU’oached the Prince’s throne, supported 
on each side by a friend likeAvise in armor. 
He knelt gracefully on one knee. 

“ I come,” said he, in a A^oice trembling 
Avith emotion, “to claim, as per adA^er- 
tisement, the hand of the lovely Lady 
Helen. ” And he held out a cojiy of the 
Allgemeine Zeitang as he spoke. 


“ Art thou noble, Sir Knight ?” asked 
the Prince of Cleves. 

“ As noble as 3" ourself,” ansAvered the 
kneeling steel. 

“Who ansAA'ers for thee ?” 

“I, Karl, MargraA^e of Godesberg, his 
father !” said the knight on the right hand, 
lifting his visor. 

“And I — Ludwig, Count of Hombourg, 
his godfather !” said the knight on the 
left, doing likeAvise. 

The kneeling knight lifted up his visor 
noAv, and looked on Helen. 

“ I knew it was,” said she, and fainted as 
she saw Otto the Archer. 

But she Avas soon brought to, gentles, 
as I have small need to tell je. In a very 
feAV days after, a great marriage took i)lace 
at Cleves, under the jAatronage of Saint 
Bugo, Saint Buffo, and Saint Bendigo. 
After the marriage ceremony, the happiest 
and handsomest pair in the world drove 
off in a chaise-and-four, to pass the hon- 
eymoon at Kissingen. The Lady Theodo- 
ra, Avdiom we left locked up in her conA^ent 
a long time since, was prevailed 112^011 to 
come back to Godesberg, where she Avas 
reconciled to her husband. Jealous of 
her daughter-in-law, she idolized her son, 
and spoiled all her little grand-children. 
And so all are ha 2 qiy, and my simjjle tale 
is done. 

I read it in an old, old book, in a mould}^ 
old circulating library. ’TAvas written in 
the French tongue, by the noble Alexan- 
der Dumas ; but ’tis x^robable that he stole 
it from some other, and that the other had 
filched it from a former tale-teller. For 
nothing is neAv under the sun. Things die 
and are reproduced only. And so it is 
that the forgotten tale of the great Dumas 
reappears under the signature of 

Theresa McWhirter. 
Whistlebinkie, AT. B., December 1 . 


U-O-W 




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AUTHOR OF “jane EYRE,” “SHERUSY,” AND ‘ ’ VUiLETTE. ” 

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